Child of Ours
by OyHumbug
Summary: Problems with conception can destroy a marriage. Will that happen to Ryan and Marissa, and, if not, will they ever get a child of their own? Future Fic This is semi AU because, obviously, Marissa is alive and the past has been changed.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Yes, this is ANOTHER new story. LOL I imagine that after many of you read this first chapter, you will have questions, especially about how this situation has come to be. All will be explained as the tale unfolds, so just be patient. With that said, I hope everyone enjoys this first post._

Charlynn

Chapter One

It hadn't been an overly stressful day nor was there anything special about it. The simple fact was that Ryan Atwood always looked forward to going home, to seeing his wife, to spending time with her. They had been married for nine years and together without any breaks since the end of their junior year of high school. Sure, there had been issues, but they had worked through them together, and, at this point in his life, 32 years old with an amazing job as a architect, the only thing he had ever felt he was good at, a lifestyle he couldn't have even dreamt of before he had moved to Newport, and the most wonderful woman as his wife, Ryan could safely say his life was almost perfect. It was just missing one thing, but they were working on that.

With flowers in his hand, a pastel hued blend of the simplest, most aromatic spring buds, he pushed open the front door of their home, a big, bright, and cheerful house that was comfortable for just the two of them but could very easily fit a couple other inhabitants, and went in search of his wife. He knew she was home. Her car was in the driveway, and she had mentioned to him that morning while they had eaten breakfast together that she was planning on working from home. That was often the case; her hours were flexible, and many of the tasks she had to perform for her job could easily be carried out in their home office. Unfortunately, the house was silent, which was a strange occurrence in itself, so Ryan could not depend upon sound to guide him to his wife.

After putting down his briefcase in the foyer and tossing his suit jacket over the banister of the staircase, he began his search. Although he did peak into the more formal rooms of the house, the living and dining rooms, they rarely used those spaces, only reserving them for company or when their family came down to San Diego to visit, so he did not expect her to be in them. Next, he checked the study, but she wasn't there either, so he moved his way towards the back of the house where the rooms they used more were located. She wasn't in the kitchen, but as soon as he wandered into the family room, the afternoon rays of the setting sun sending beams of light through the floor to ceiling windows that looked out into their backyard, he saw her. The sight of her, his wife, _his Marissa_, took his breath away and brought a wide, ridiculously happy smile to his face.

She had pushed the furniture aside, providing herself with ample room to move and dance around to the music that was streaming into her ears through headphones. Dozens of demo CDs were strewn across their coffee table, appearing to the untrained eye to be in no particular order, but Ryan knew, somehow, someway, they were organized according to which merited signing, were worthy of being watched and kept track of, or which were absolutely horrendous, never to be even considered again to his wife, that her mess of undiscovered music made perfect sense to her. Her penchant for controlled chaos, for cluttered order was just one more thing that made her Marissa, that made him love her.

Her hair was loose, slightly curly, and streaming out behind her as she spun in crazed, exuberant circles around the room, for the all world looking like a playful, innocent little girl. He loved when she wore her hair down, when she let it cascade down her back. There was something about tangling his hand in her long, silky strands of chestnut brown hair and pulling her into his body for a long, slow, sensual kiss that absolutely drove him wild with longing. It was the best feeling in the world. Dressed simply in an adorable white sundress, feet free of shoes, Ryan found his eyes roaming his wife's body, observing her as closely as possible, and wondering if she had anything on underneath the simple dress. Approaching her quickly, all ideas of self-restraint and patience leaving his mind, he knew he was probably going to startle her, but he couldn't help himself; he needed to feel her in his arms and he needed to feel her now.

In one swift motion, he slid his hands up her dress and pulled her body back into his so that her back was pressed up against his strong torso and his face could bury itself in the soft, delicate, creamy smooth skin of her shoulder, breathing in her subtle scent, a mixture of her apple shampoo, cocoa butter lotion, and Chanel No. 5 perfume. That smell, Marissa's smell, was the closest thing to heaven that Ryan could imagine. She had jumped at the first touch of his hands, hers automatically reaching down to stop his upward progression, but as soon as her body recognized the slightly calloused skin of his fingers, the slight tickle of his hair as it brushed against her bare neck, and the fevered desire of his lips upon her clavicle, without even looking, she clasped his hands in hers and guided them to her free and already aroused breasts, her dress being pulled up by their movements.

Quickly, she let go of his hands to reach up to her head and take off her headphones, tossing them aside and not caring where they landed. Sighing, she leaned her body into Ryan's, letting his weight support her own, and simply enjoyed the feelings of passion his touches were invoking in her body.

"I was hoping you'd come home early today," she admitted as he turned her around in his arms and proceeded to take her dress completely off of her body. It was merely tossed aside carelessly just as her headphones were. As they continued to talk, interrupting their words briefly for soft, teasing kisses full of promise that more was to come, Marissa slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

"Oh really," Ryan asked, a smug smirk on his face, "and why's that?"

"Because it's time."

He was confused. "Time for what?"

"You know," Marissa answered, "time…TIME." Looking at her, Ryan realized she was blushing and biting her lip, as if, almost fifteen years after their first time making love, she was still slightly shy and embarrassed. Her eyes silently pleaded with him to understand, but, when he could only stare at her with questions in his eyes, she finally elaborated, dropping her eyes and subconsciously playing with his belt. "Time to make a baby," she whispered.

As soon as her eyes looked back up to meet his, her beautiful sapphire orbs of deep blue full of love, faith, and hope, Ryan could not take it any longer. Too overcome with the emotions coursing through his body, the same emotions that were reflected back to him in his wife's glowing eyes, he needed to feel connected with her, so he crashed his body into hers, his lips into hers, mingling their tongues together in an endless embrace of mutual devotion, passion, and promise. It was his way of telling her that he wanted this, too, that he was ready and wanting to make a baby with her, and he knew, as she returned his kiss, that she understood his silent form of communication.

Pulling away breathlessly, Marissa smiled up at him, her gorgeous face beaming with anticipation. "Finish getting undressed," she instructed him playfully. "I'm going to put some music on."

Mere seconds later, they were in each others arms again, arms encircling, chests pressed together, mouths joined in a never-ending expression of their ardor and commitment. Falling to the floor, the plush carpet of their family room serving as their bed, Ryan slowly, tenderly, sweetly made love to his wife, both of them hoping that perhaps that time their actions were finally making the baby they craved so much.

The room was in shadows, the amber and crimson of the twilight cloaking their bodies in a warm radiance as the pleasantly exhausted lovers lay in each others arms, content smiles on both of their faces. Ryan, on his stomach, rested with his head cradled against Marissa's breasts, his face looking towards hers, his left hand joined tightly with her right, as his right on rested idly on the flat, seductively toned expanse of her lower abdomen, his fingers gently tickling her skin every few minutes, her left hand sliding effortlessly, soothingly through his shaggy, tousled blonde locks. The scene was almost flawless, but there was just one thing that disturbed the seamless moment in the young couple's lives: the music Marissa had put on, another demo CD, was terrible.

Chuckling, Ryan asked her, "could you have picked a worse CD for us to listen to?"

"I know; I'm sorry," Marissa acknowledged giggling with him, "but if we just made a baby while they played, I don't care how bad they are, they're getting a record deal."

"Their first CD could be entitled 'Conception Classics'," Ryan suggested making Marissa laugh even harder. After a moment, their mirth died down, and he looked up at her with dreams in his eyes. "Do you really think we did it, that we finally made a baby this time?"

"Well," Marissa answered, an encouraging smile on her face, "maybe. Everything was just right for us. I'm ovulating, my temperature was where it's supposed to be, and you know we definitely have the process down to an art."

Impatiently, he queried, "how long will we have to wait to find out?"

"A couple of weeks." Suddenly, Ryan jumped up, standing over Marissa, and looked down at her. "Hey," she complained playfully, "what are you….," but her words were cut off as he swiftly picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, patting her round, firm derrière affectionately as he made his way towards the front of the house and the stairs that would take them to their bedroom.

Amongst her peels of laughter, he retorted boldly, "I figured our chances would only improve with lots of practice."

Marissa had no arguments.

-+-

Never had a day seemed to go so slow. It was exactly two weeks later, and Ryan and Marissa had planned to take a home pregnancy test together that evening after Ryan got home from work, but it felt as if the day was never ending, as if he would never get to leave, as if he would be trapped in his tiny, bland office forever. It had been hard to contain themselves from trying the test early. One night Marissa would be the voice of reason, and then the next night, Ryan was the one holding her back. At that point, he didn't know why he just didn't go home early; it wasn't as if he was getting anything accomplished. Since 9:00 that morning he had been sitting at his desk staring straight across the room at the clock that hung opposite him, ignoring his work, skipping lunch, and refusing to take any calls. The only thing that was keeping him there was knowing that if Marissa was pregnant like they hoped, he needed to save all his vacation and sick time for doctors' appointments and for after the baby was born.

Startling him out of his revelry, his intercom buzzed. "What Nancy," he barked at his secretary when he put her through.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir," she began only to have Ryan interrupt her.

"Then why are you? I thought I told you I didn't want to be disturbed today, that means no phone calls and no meetings."

"I know, sir," she agreed, her tone apologetic, "but the person would not take no for an answer. The insisted they needed to speak with you in person, and that if I didn't buzz you, they'd have me fired."

"This better be worth it," Ryan threatened, realizing he was being an ass to his secretary but was too caught up in other thoughts to regret it.

"I think it will be, Mr. Atwood."

"Fine then," he finally agreed, "let them in." Ryan didn't even bother to look up at the door when he heard it being pushed open.

"I'm really not interrupting something important, am I," a sweet, tentative, nervous voice asked. He knew that voice. That voice was the most beautiful sound in the world. A smile was on his face before he even could snap his head up to lock gazes with Marissa. "I just couldn't wait any longer."

Striding across the room quickly, he took her in his arms for a tight, intimate hug, burying his face in her neck and kissing it softly. Pulling away, he asked, "what…here?"

"I guess," Marissa answered, shrugging her shoulders and laughing. "I know it's weird, but we'll be discreet. I have the test in my purse, and we'll just sneak off and go to the bathroom."

"You know," Ryan teased her, "I was going to be home in less than hour."

"Hey, I was patient. I waited hours to come here. You have no idea how many times I got in my car today to come over, to surprise you, but I kept talking myself out of it. Needless to say, I didn't get any work done."

Smirking, he agreed with her. "Same here."

Shyly, she questioned him. "So, do you mind….you know….if we do this here?"

"Mind," Ryan repeated, taking her hand in his and leading her towards the door of his office. "It's the best offer I've had in two weeks."

"Two weeks," Marissa complained, "what was so great two weeks ago?"

"Your offer to try and make this baby."

"That was a good night….and morning," she giggled in concurrence as they walked out of the room.

As they passed by Nancy's desk, a suddenly cheerful and gracious Ryan turned to his secretary and spoke kindly to her. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Nancy, if anyone asks for me. Hold down the fort." Too consumed with his wife and what they were about to do, he missed his secretary's amused smirk and quiet laughter, turning the corner to head to his floor's restrooms.

"Okay," Marissa instructed when they came to a stop in front of the women's bathroom, "I'll go in first, check to make sure no one else is in there, and then, if it's safe, I'll signal for you to come in. Just make sure you lock the door after you join me."

With a far away look on his face and still holding Marissa closely to him, Ryan mused, "do you know what this reminds me of?" Continuing without waiting for her to answer, he whispered in her ear, "Six years ago, you, me, and the cloak closet at Seth and Summer's wedding…"

Marissa chuckled. "That is going to have to wait until we get home. I was so loud that day, we should have been caught, and there's no way I'm doing…that here. Could you imagine what people would say if someone heard us?!"

"I would guess that I'd get a lot of 'way to go, man's' from some very jealous co-workers."

Rolling her eyes, Marissa simply dismissed his comments and ignored his cheeky grin, slipping into the bathroom without another word said between them. A moment later, she signaled for Ryan to enter with her. As per her order, he locked the door and turned around to see her already attempting to open the box. Unfortunately, her hands were shaking so badly, she couldn't.

"Here," he commanded, "give me that."

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Marissa explained. "I'm just so excited. Something just feels different this time, like we actually did it, like we actually made a baby."

Getting into the spirit, Ryan asked her, "so, Mom, what do you think? Did we make a little girl or a little boy two weeks ago?"

Her face broke into a breathtaking smile. "A little girl," she gushed, "who I can dress up, play with her hair, take her to dance and gymnastic classes, shop with."

"Well, I think it's a little boy," Ryan taunted, handing her the test and pushing her into a stall as he followed her, "a little boy I can do guy stuff with."

"Guy stuff? Ryan, what are you talking about?"

"You know," he answered, "grill steaks, drink beer, work on cars, watch sports."

"Yeah, that'll happen right away," Marissa laughed, kissing him quickly, rewarding him for his adorable nature. "You're too damn cute."

"Ugh," he whined at the compliment, "just pee on the stick already."

"And then, you shoot that to hell."

Shaking his head at her antics, Ryan watched as Marissa took the test, unable to keep the anticipation and hope he was feeling out of his gaze. This wasn't the first time they had done this, taken a home pregnancy test; hell, at this point, they were practically experts, but neither of them had ever been this sure, this positive that Marissa was carrying their baby inside of her. That confidence had to mean something.

They merely stood there, in each others arms, as the seconds ticked by. At one moment it would seem as if the test would never be ready to read, their eagerness getting the better of them, but then, at other moments, when the fear of failure and the haunting memories of their past, negative experiences would flash through their minds, time seemed to slip past in a blink of an eye. Eventually though, whether they wanted the results or not, whether they wanted to hide in their blissfully happy ignorance and believe in the best, time was up and the answer to their question was sitting right in front of them a few feet away. All they had to do was pick it up and look at it and they would know.

"Are you ready," Ryan said so softly Marissa could barely hear him. She could only manage to shake her head no. "Neither am I," he agreed with her, "but do you want me to look anyway?" This time, she responded with a positive shake of her head. Cupping her face gently in his hands, he kissed her. "I love you." In those three little, magical words he tried to tell her that everything would be alright, that they would be okay whether or not she was pregnant, that he would be ecstatic if she was but, if she wasn't, they'd simply try again and again until they succeeded.

"I love you, too," she finally whispered back to him. With her words of commitment and love ringing in his mind, Ryan moved away from his wife and picked up the pregnancy test, glancing at it only momentarily.

He knew by the soft sob that escaped Marissa's lips that she knew the answer already, that there was no need to turn around and say the words that would only hurt her even more. After four years of trying, after all their careful planning, they still weren't going to have a baby. Marissa was not pregnant.

Pulling her into his side and letting her bury her face in his chest, they left the office together. Ryan could feel her tears of pain and sorrow drenching his suit jacket and seeping through to his button up Oxford shirt, but none of it mattered to him. If her silent moans and wet tears afforded her any comfort at all, Ryan would let Marissa cry on his shoulder for as long as she could. Driving home in just one car and leaving the worry of picking up the other car another day, he never thought about the fact that he left the work he had been intending to start that weekend in his office, he didn't remember that he had told Nancy he would be back in a few minutes when he had left with Marissa, and suddenly he wished that the day had not gone by so quickly.

-+-

Their trip home may have only been fifteen minutes, but it was miserable. However, no matter how terrible it felt to sit in the car together with the knowledge that they had failed, yet again, to make a baby together, it was even scarier to confront the room just down the hall from their own that they had already designated as the nursery. So they sat there, in the driveway, the car turned off, in silence for what might have been hours; neither of them looked at a clock for it only served as a reminder that their chances were slipping by, that they were not getting any younger, and that, someday, the opportunity to have a baby would pass them by.

Eventually though, Ryan realized that they had to go inside no matter how much they both wanted to just simply hide from the rest of the world. Without saying a word, he opened his door and walked around the car to the passenger side, picking Marissa up, and carrying her inside. The outside world was dark and so was their house, but it was comforting, self-reflective, so Ryan didn't bother to turn any lights on. Instead, he simply carried his wife up the stairs to their bedroom, undressed her gently, and put her in bed. Stripping off his own clothes, he quickly joined her under the covers needing to feel close to her, wanting to offer her comfort and receive it back.

"Are you hungry," he asked her softly, running his left hand in a soothing pattern along the small of her back. Normally when they were spooned together naked in bed, he would run his hand across her stomach, but he knew touching her there would only remind her of the fact that it was empty. "I could make you something to eat, anything you want," Ryan offered, "or, if you'd prefer, I can order in something. Your choice."

Her absolute silence served as the no he was expecting.

"What about a hot bubble bath," he pushed, wanting to elicit some form of response from her. "It might help you relax, and then, afterwards, when you're done, I'll give you a back massage."

Still, Marissa said and did nothing.

"Or maybe we could just spend the night in bed, holding each other," Ryan suggested. Turning her over in his arms, he looked deeply into her pain filled eyes, holding her gaze for as long as he could before blinking. "I just want to feel you close tonight."

Leaning closer to her, he dropped his face and started trailing fervent, healing kisses down her neck and onto her chest, letting his hands roam her body freely as he pulled her to him even tighter, needing to be as close to her as possible. So lost in his attentions, he never realized that Marissa was not responding to his touch until she roughly pushed him away.

"Not tonight, Ryan," she caustically. Turning over so that her back was to him, she left him puzzled for a moment before he merely leaned into her body, once again, and kissed down the back of her neck and all the way down her spine. "I said no!"

Her vehemence caught him off guard. "But…," Ryan stammered, unsure of what to say, "this is what we always do after we…."

"After we what," she screamed, standing up from their bed and reaching for her silk robe that was always positioned in the chair next to her nightstand, "after we find out there's no baby?"

He stood up and reached out his arms for her, but she pushed him aside. "Yeah," Ryan finally answered her, "we always," he swallowed thickly, "make love after we find out there's no baby."

"Well we're not tonight; there's no point in having sex right now."

"No point," he questioned her, "when have we ever needed a point or a reason to make love besides wanting to be with each other?"

Setting her face in an angry stare, Marissa glared at him before turning her back and walking out of the room. "If we can't make a baby, then sleeping together right now would be pointless. I'm going to do some work. Don't bother coming after me."

And, with that, she left Ryan standing there….alone. Although he knew it was her pain talking, it still didn't make him feel any better. Never in their relationship had anything she'd ever said or done hurt him as badly as her last comment had. Putting a pair of pajama pants and wife beater on, he climbed back into their bed, knowing he would be sleeping alone, that she would either work all night or sleep somewhere else. Not only was he hurting because there was no baby, but he was now worried about what their lack of ability to conceive a child would do to their relationship. Would they be able to survive if they couldn't get pregnant? It was obvious to Ryan that Marissa blamed him for their fertility problems. If only he knew her actions stemmed from the complete opposite motivation. She blamed herself.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Good afternoon," Doctor Paulson greeted Ryan and Marissa as they were shown into his office by his secretary. "Can I offer you anything to drink before we get started?"

Sitting down, Marissa felt Ryan take her hand in his, giving it a soft, comforting squeeze before he addressed the doctor. "No thank you. If it's alright with you, we'd prefer it if we could just begin right away. The sooner we know the test results, the sooner we can decide our next step."

It had been fifteen months since their fateful, failed attempt to conceive a child. After the night Marissa had turned away from him, she had apologized for her actions, and they had both turned a blind eye to the pain they were feeling and continued to try for a baby, month after month, disappointment after disappointment until the point where they had accepted the fact that they needed help. They were both 33 years old, and if they didn't do something now about their infertility problems, it would become too late someday. Gathering their courage, they had agreed to make an appointment with a fertility specialist to have Marissa tested to make sure she was even capable of having children.

"That's perfectly alright with me," Doctor Paulson agreed, pulling open Marissa's file to, once again, briefly, go over her results. "Well, according to all the tests we ran, Mrs. Atwood, there is no reason why you would not be able to conceive a child and then carry it to full term. Your body, despite your concerns, is in excellent health and shape."

Relieved, she felt her shoulders relax as she turned towards her husband, the painful, scared breath she had been holding inside of her chest released quickly in a rush of reassured smiles and joyful tears. In that moment, the rest of the world, the medical office, the doctor, the fact that they did not have a child yet, disappeared, and, for Marissa, she and Ryan were the only two in the world. Everything was absolutely fine…she was okay, and that meant that they would be okay. They would keep trying, even more so than before, and, eventually, when the timing was right, they would get the baby they wanted so much. Releasing Ryan's hand from her own, she cupped his face between her two soft, smooth palms and leaned in and delicately placed a loving kiss on his lips. For her, that simple embrace meant so much. It stood for their hope for the future, their faith in their marriage, and their devotion to each other. As soon as she felt Ryan return her kiss and place his own hands on her face, she knew he felt the same way.

"Mr. and Mrs. Atwood," the amused doctor attempted to interrupt them, but they never heard his quiet words. Raising his voice, he tried again, but it wasn't until his third attempt to gain their attention that Ryan and Marissa broke apart from their slow, tender embrace, blushing slightly at their ability to lose themselves in each other, to focus their attention, yet again, upon their fertility expert. Setting her folder aside, he smiled at the couple. "Congratulations, Mrs. Atwood."

"Please," she beamed at him, "call me Marissa. What you told me today, what your words have given me….us," she explained her eyes drifting back to her husband as their hands re-entwined, "it's everything we've wanted for years, the best gift we've ever received."

"The pleasure is all mine."

"So then, is that it," Ryan asked, moving to stand up in his chair and pulling Marissa with him. She knew he was eager to go home, perhaps even to put her newly deemed, perfect reproductive capabilities to use.

"Well actually," the doctor began, his words making the smile drop off of Ryan's face and for his body to retake his seat, "as you know, for precautionary reasons, even though Mrs. Atwood said it was unneeded, I insisted that we also test you, Mr. Atwood."

"Yeah," she argued, wanting to dismiss the second manila folder of results the man in front of them was holding, "but we already know that Ryan can have children. Remember, I told you that back in high school his ex-girlfriend lost a baby. If there's nothing wrong with me, then there's nothing wrong at all. It can't be Ryan."

"Actually, even if Mr. Atwood is fine, which we'll know for sure as soon as I read his results in a moment, there are very rare circumstances where both the man and the woman are perfectly capable of having children on their own or with other partners, but together, their sperm and egg are incompatible."

"We're compatible," Ryan responded curtly. The idea that two people who were so in love and had been for so long, who had such amazing chemistry together could be incompatible in bed was obviously just preposterous to him. Marissa couldn't agree more.

"I'm not suggesting that the two of you have this problem," Dr. Paulson reassured them. "Like I said, it's very rare, so before we jump to conclusions, let's just get reading Mr. Atwood's results out of the way."

As he opened the folder, Marissa, despite her earlier display of bravado and faith grew nervous, and as she continued to watch the professional in front of her as he examined the numbers and figures before him, results she could not see, results that could determine the rest of her life and her marriage, her confidence level continued to drop. Needing to reassure Ryan though, she squeezed his hand, lifting it to her lips, and kissing it before dropping it into her lap and caressing their joined hands with her free one. Even if it was just his left hand, she needed to feel him close to her, feel his wedding band brush against her hand as they waited, together, completely silent.

"Well, I…," the doctor began slowly, unwilling to look them in the eyes, "this is never easy, and I don't know what…..how to say it."

With one word, Ryan told him how to proceed. "Plainly."

"It's practically impossible that the baby your ex-girlfriend lost in high school, Mr. Atwood, was yours."

"I don't understand," Marissa asked blankly, confused and scared at the cryptic reply the doctor had just given them despite Ryan's insistence for the cold, hard truth. "What does that mean? Is there something wrong? What?"

Removing his glasses, Dr. Paulson pinched his nose before looking up at the waiting couple. "I'm afraid Ryan's sperm count is extremely low. Now, before you panic or get upset, he's not completely infertile. Your chances to have a child together though are extremely slim."

Swallowing thickly, Ryan questioned, "how did this happen? What did I do?"

"Nothing." Standing up, the doctor rounded his desk and sat on the front of it, attempting to make their conversation seem less formal, less final. "Chances are you were just born like this, that it was a birth defect that went unnoticed or a chromosomal problem. Of course, there are other explanations. It could be a hormonal problem, you could have antibodies that attack your sperm, but because we know you were never a habitual user of drugs nor have you had cancer, this is not something you have done to yourself. If you wish, we can test further and attempt to determine the cause, but that's up to you. No matter what, there's nothing we can do to change it."

"So, what are you saying," Marissa choked out, her mind disbelieving what their specialist was telling them and her heart breaking. "What does this mean for us?"

"Like I said," the doctor began reassuringly, "you can always keep trying. There is still a small chance you'll be able to conceive a child naturally. But, even if you can't, there are other options."

The room was quiet. Turning to look at her husband, Marissa could see blind panic in his eyes and knew he would be unable to think of the future, to get out of the moment when he heard that it was his fault they were having difficulty conceiving a child. If she had been thinking properly, she would have known what the doctor was going to say next, but she, too, was in shock. "Such as what," she queried, curious as to what their next step could be.

"What I would recommend next," the doctor began slowly, moving his eyes back and forth from both Ryan and Marissa every few seconds, "would be to…."

"Wait a minute," Ryan interrupted, snapping his hand away from Marissa's tight clasp and springing to his feet to pace the small length of the office. "So what you're staying here is that my wife is perfectly capable of having a child, and if she were married to someone else, anyone else, she would probably already have a child right now, that it is all my fault that she has cried herself to sleep so many times over the past six years that I have lost track of the count, that she has been doubting herself and her capabilities as a woman all because of me?"

"That's quite harsh, Mr. Atwood," the doctor said avoiding the question.

"But it's the truth, right," Ryan pushed, "and the chances are that the only way she's ever going to be able to have a child of her own naturally is if we get a sperm donor."

"Yes, that is what I would suggest you look into. If you go to a clinic," Dr. Paulson reassured, "it's completely anonymous. You can choose the donor you would like to use, attempt to find one similar to you, Mr. Atwood, and start the procedure as soon as possible. There would be no reason you would not be able to have a baby by this time next year."

"No."

She knew her voice was practically non-existent, a whisper in a room filled with silent shouts and screams of anguish, terror, and doubt, but her throat was too constricted to function properly, too dry to speak up any louder. However, it was loud enough to make Ryan stop in his manic steps and for the doctor to look up at her in surprise.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Atwood," he asked her, looking at Ryan for answers to the many questions moving quickly through his mind before resettling his eyes on Marissa. "It was hard to hear what you said. I thought you said no, but surely I was wrong, because that's your…."

"No," Marissa repeated, her voice adamant and strong the second time she spoke up. "I don't want to carry another man's baby. I refuse to do it. If I can't have our baby," her voice trailed off as she held her hand out blindly for Ryan to take hold of it, "then I guess I was just never meant to have a baby."

Coming to stand next to her chair, Ryan sank down onto his knees, taking her offered hand in his and holding onto it so tightly, she could tell he needed their contact for strength. "Are you sure?"

"How about I give you some brochures and information to read over before you go," the doctor suggested kindly. "You don't want to rule this out without having all the facts."

"I don't need facts, I don't need figures, I don't need time to think this over," Marissa answered, her response meant to reply to both man's queries. "Since the day I first met you all those years ago," she explained to Ryan, "you've been the only man I've ever imagined as the father of my children, and the day we got married I knew that your babies would be the only ones I would ever be able to carry and nurture inside of me. You're not just my husband, you're my partner, my lover, my best friend, my everything." She paused, needing a moment to wipe away the tears forming in her eyes, smiling up at Ryan before she proceeded, "and, because of that, there will be no more talk of sperm donors."

For several minutes, Ryan and Marissa merely stared into each others eyes, their foreheads locked together as one. They never noticed the doctor slip out of the room as quietly as he could, and time went by effortlessly, but it didn't matter. The outside world could wait, for they needed their time together to start healing the wound the test results had ripped into their world that afternoon. Slowly but together, Ryan and Marissa got up out of their sitting positions on the floor and in a chair, respectively, and walked out of the fertility clinic's doors for the last time, Marissa snuggled deeply into the crook of Ryan's arm the entire time.

-+-

They were on their way home when Ryan finally spoke up, breaking the silence that had been between them since Marissa had last spoke in the doctor's office. It had not been a bad silence just a contemplative, pensive one. "What do you think about adoption?"

"Honestly," Marissa asked, nervous to upset the delicate balance they were existing in. She knew what she wanted to say, but she was worried she would say it the wrong way or that he would take her answer and misinterpret it. Ryan simply nodded his head yes in answer. "Well, I'm not sure," she revealed, risking it and looking over at his face. Although he was focused on driving, she could tell he was scared about the conversation they were about to have, too. For some reason that thought made her feel more comfortable, as if, perhaps, they were, once again, on the same wavelength. "I think it's a wonderful thing, taking in a child who is either unwanted or who has lost their parents and raising them as your own, and, even though I know I would be able to love any baby, any child, I just….I don't know. If and when we make that decision, to adopt, it's so final. It's like accepting that there's no hope that we'll be able to have a baby of our own, and, I guess, I just need to hold onto that hope for a little while longer, even if it does tear me apart every month when that hope is torn to shreds. What do you think?"

"I know I've never told you this before," Ryan responded, "and I'm not sure what you'll think of it, but I've always kind of wanted to adopt…someday, kind of repaying the favor the Cohens did for me."

Marissa, despite their circumstances, felt a small smile tug at her lips at the sound of his words. Reaching across the center console, she rested her left hand on his knee, softly rubbing it to show him her support. "I think that's a great idea."

"You do," Ryan asked, glancing over at her quickly before his eyes returned to the road.

"Yeah," she reiterated, "I do. It would be like making a full circle, completing….I don't know, destiny or something."

"I agree, but that doesn't mean I don't want to have a baby with you, but I guess now…."

His words trailed off, but Marissa knew what he had intended to finish that sentence: _that I can't have children, now that I've let you down, it's our only option._

Thinking about his silent statement, she remained quiet for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Finally, she spoke up. "You know," she pointed out with forced brightness, "we're only 33. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but that's still really young. We have plenty of years ahead of us to make a baby. Women have babies well into their 40's all the time now. If, years down the line, we're still unable to have a baby, then we can start adoption proceedings, but, for now, think of all the fun we can have trying."

Ryan laughed. It was a small, practically unnoticeable chuckle, but, to Marissa, it meant the world. He still had hope. "We've always enjoyed the trying," he agreed, shaking his head at her cuteness. "And we can do other things, too, that we couldn't do if we had kids right now. Go on vacations, drive fancy cars, walk around the house naked."

"And I'm sure the last one on that list is your favorite," she teased him. Sure, they had a lot to talk about, but, for now, they needed this. They needed to just relax, enjoy each others company, and reaffirm their commitment to one another. The serious talks could wait a night; for the next few hours, she just wanted to live in the moment and be thankful for the one thing they would always have: each other. "What do you say to just a quiet evening in though," Marissa suggested, changing the subject. "We could make dinner together, perhaps take a swim, open a bottle of wine, go for a walk together…nothing important or monumental or anything but just us."

"It sounds perfect," Ryan approved as they pulled into their driveway. Turning off the care, he leaned into her and, for a moment, the nearness of their partner's body was enough, but, eventually, they both needed to be closer, so their lips joined together in a sweet, mending, devoted kiss. Slowly, he pulled away and exited the car, rounding it to open her door and offer Marissa his hand to help her out. Arm in arm, they moved into the home they had shared for ten years, completely unprepared for what was to come later that night.

-+-

The sun was just about to set as Ryan and Marissa's phone rang, breaking the soothing mood they had created for themselves. They had both changed when they had gotten home, putting on comfortable clothes. While Ryan was simply in a pair of jeans and a wife beater, Marissa had slipped on one his old, worn, faded t-shirts from college, a favorite thing of hers to wear when she wanted to feel safe and content, and a pair of baggy shorts. Dimming the lights, they had opened a bottle of wine just as she had suggested, filling two glasses and drinking from them leisurely as they prepared dinner together. As always, there was soft music on in the background, a new favorite of Marissa's that her company had just recently signed to their first record deal. With the comforting scent of raising dough and homemade pizza sauce filling the air, Ryan and Marissa flirted back and forth silently, sharing secretive glances and promising embraces as they worked together to prepare their meal, Marissa fit snuggly against Ryan's body as he controlled her hands for her. The uncomplicated evening was exactly what they needed to forget their worries and focus on each other, and one glance at the number flashing on the caller ID screen of their phone told them the call would be anything but relaxing in nature or content.

"Let's just get this over with," Marissa recommended in response to the call they were receiving. "You know as well as I do if we don't answer it, they'll just keep calling back."

"Or leave message after message until we give up and call them back," Ryan added.

The name flashing across the screen read Seth and Summer, now both Cohens, their former best friends and current brother and sister-in-law. Though their connection had remained constant because they were family, they four of them had grown apart as their lives had taken them in different directions. While Ryan and Marissa had remained in California, Seth and Summer had relocated to the east coast for college and then their careers. Afraid of marriage after witnessing her father's three failed attempts, Summer didn't mind it when Seth seemed to be too commitment phobic to propose, and they had only married when they realized she was pregnant. Now, six years later, they had two children, Cal who was five and Nic who was three, a full time nanny, and a silent agreement to make sure they never had another child. Two children, they said, were two too many, leaving them with less time to read comics, go shopping, play video games, have a day at the spa, ride their skateboard, or lay out at the beach. Although they loved their children, they were themselves too much like children to be good parents. However, their grandparents adored them.

"Coop, you there," Summer's loud, anxious voice demanded as soon as Ryan switched the speaker phone on.

"Yeah, I am," Marissa responded with a sigh that would be undetectable over a phone line stretching thousands of miles but obvious to her husband. "I'm here with Ryan. We're making dinner together."

"Oh yeah, that's nice," their brunette caller dismissed, not even attempting to greet Ryan or acknowledge Marissa's statement. "Anyway, I needed someone to talk to. You'll never guess what's happened. It's terrible."

"The boys are alright, aren't they," Ryan interjected, joining the conversation.

"What," Summer asked dumbly, confused by his question at first. "Oh yeah, they're fine, off with Elizabeth," the nanny, "at the movies or somewhere, I'm not really sure. I just told her I needed some time alone and to keep the boys occupied all evening until I would be asleep."

"Well, if the boys are fine, is it Seth, you, work? What's wrong," Marissa pushed. She was relieved her nephews were healthy and safe but still alarmed by her sister-in-law's frantic phone call.

"I'm pregnant," Summer wailed, completely oblivious to the sound of dropping dishes and a choked sob coming from her former best friends. "Seth and I are furious! The worst part is that I'll be six months pregnant by Chrismukkah, and it will be hell to fly across the country with both boys when I'm big, fat, and miserable."

"You're coming," Marissa questioned in disbelief, "but it's not healthy for the baby if you fly that late in your pregnancy. Doctor's don't recommend it."

"How do you know that," Summer countered, "it's not like you've ever been pregnant, and, besides, I'll be fine. We'll be in first class, as always, and it'll be no different from the other numerous times I've taken flights when pregnant. But it's sweet of you to worry about me. Thanks, Coop."

Marissa turned towards Ryan and saw that he was pale and holding onto the counter for support. Although she didn't want to say anything more to Summer, she knew it was up to her to finish the conversation and get her off of the phone. Before she could ask another question though, Summer just kept talking.

"Can you believe that all it took was for one drunken night of forgetfulness, and now, here I am, pregnant, again, for the third time in six years? What did I ever do to deserve this? I mean, I didn't take my pill one night, and we just happen to get pregnant. I should have just had a hysterectomy when Nic was born. That would have prevented this little mistake from happening. Despite everything though, Cohen's all pumped and proud of himself. He's going around calling himself 'Shooter' for his aim and accuracy in knocking me up, the stupid ass!"

Marissa went to reach for Ryan, but he was quicker than she was and threw the pan he had been holding in his hand down before running out of the room.

"What the hell was that," Summer asked, the loud noise of metal against tile breaking her from her self-involved ramble.

Bluntly, Marissa told her, "I have to go."

"But wait," Summer protested, "I have more to tell you,…" but she was cut off as Marissa simply unplugged the phone line from the wall and ran out of the room to follow Ryan, their dinner laying forgotten and spilled all over the floor.

Following the sound of Ryan's strangled sobs coming from their backyard, Marissa found herself confronted with a sight that scared her beyond words. She wasn't scared for herself, no matter how angry or hurt Ryan was, he'd never put her in danger; she was scared for him.

Though they rarely visited, Ryan had built a swing set for Cal and Nic the summer before when the young family had come home to Southern California for a few weeks. He genuinely loved his nephews, and, while they were there, Ryan and Marissa had invited the boys down to stay with them in San Diego every weekend while their parents remained in Newport with the other adults. The boys had loved the surprise Ryan had built for them, and they had agreed to keep it for the next time they visited or in hopes that their own children would someday play on it. But, as Marissa made her way into their back yard, Ryan was doing his best to destroy it with a metal baseball bat, beating and breaking it at a furious speed, his hands clenched desperately to the handle of the bat, his eyes closed against the world and the pain it kept bringing him, his mind void of any thought except those of escape from the nightmare he was currently living.

Striding confidently across the yard, Marissa approached Ryan silently. She knew he wouldn't hear her even if she did try to say something. Reaching out her hand, she placed it firmly on the small of her husband's back, the bat that had been so fiercely gripped in his hands falling immediately to the ground as his eyes opened and his gaze turned to land on her. "Oh, Ryan," she breathed out soothingly, falling into his body as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, their connection the only thing holding him together.

Marissa knew there was nothing she could say to make him feel better, to take the pain and self-doubt away that one phone call from their sister-in-law had caused, but she could do something to take his mind off of their issues and reassure him that, no matter what, she loved him. Despite how forcefully Ryan had been holding her, as soon as she loosened her grip on him, he let her go; he never held her too firmly or for too long. Taking his hand in hers, they silently made their way inside, and she led him through their family room and the hallway that took them into the foyer and the stairs that would lead them up to their bedroom. Quickly and determinedly she pulled him after her all the way up their winding staircase and down the hall until they reached their bedroom door which was open. As soon as they standing beside their bed, she turned around and went straight back into his arms, snaking her own down to unbutton his shirt as she joined their lips together in a frantic, severe, bruising kiss.

Before she could even comprehend how, their clothes had been shed and she was lowering him down onto their bed as she climbed on top of him. As he entered her, her lips leaned down to his neck and whispered feverishly, "I love you, I love you, I love you," and, even though he didn't say anything in return, it was not necessary. There had been numerous times in their past when he had to remind her of his devotion to her; this time, it was her turn to do the same for him. She welcomed the idea that her touch could make him feel better, that her embrace could ease his pain, and, as they exploded together in ecstasy, their eyes locked, both a deep soulful color of blue, Marissa knew that in that moment, he had forgotten about the fact that it would take a miracle for them to have a baby on their own, that it was his fault they were having fertility problems, and that his adopted brother was about to have his third unplanned and unwanted child, and, she knew, at least for that night, they would be alright.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I know, I know, these little messages are getting over used and annoying, but they are handy. This is just a quick one though, don't worry. Someone asked how long this fic will be. It is twelve chapters long. Without further ado, here's the post, so read, reflect, and relish!_

Charlynn

Chapter Three

"Come in, come in," Sandy greeted Ryan and Marissa, his always pleasant and warm face smiling at them earnestly in excitement and anticipation, thrilled to see them. "Happy Holidays!" After giving Ryan a fatherly clap on the back, he moved towards Marissa and enveloped her in a tight, affectionate embrace, taking the bags of presents she was carrying in and nodding for Ryan to follow him with his load. Together, the three of them moved into the living room. "Marissa," he started to tease, an easy chuckle emanating from his smirking lips, "did someone go a little crazy with the present shopping?"

"Hey, don't blame me," she responded holding up her hands in self defense. Although he was right, they had brought with them an absurd about of presents, she was not the culprit. "I've learned an important lesson this Christmas season," Marissa explained moving to Ryan's side and lacing her arm through his. "Never leave my husband alone in a toy store with a credit card."

"I wasn't that bad," Ryan protested unable to keep a grin from flashing on his face.

"You're got to be kidding me," Marissa snickered. Turning back to Sandy, she continued. "I told him to pick something out for the boys, something that they could play with while they're here and take back home with them while I went to another store to pick out gifts for our Moms. When I got back, he had spent so much the manager, personally, offered to carry all of our bags out to the car…even if he had to make several trips."

"Well I ended up having to take a nap while you were in Oshkosh," Ryan countered, leaning down to kiss Marissa's cheek when she went to excuse her own shopping frenzy. "Cal and Nic are definitely going to be annoyed with you, especially if you insist they try everything on that you bought them so you can see them in the clothes."

"Marissa does that to you, too," Sandy sympathized with Ryan, shaking his head dejectedly.

"Oh quit complaining, Sandy," Kirsten dismissed his grievances moving into the room only to be followed closely behind by Julie and Neil. Although they had dated and proceeded to get married during Marissa and Ryan's senior year of high school, they had agreed three years later that they were better off as friends and separated amicably, remaining close. In fact, their split was so friendly even Summer would have lunch with Julie when she came home, and they kept in touch over the phone. "It's not as if I don't model certain things for you when you buy them for me….just as Marissa probably tries things on for Ryan." Ignoring her daughter-in-law's deep blush, she moved towards them, enveloping Ryan and then Marissa in a tight hug. "It's so good to see you two," she finished before pulling away, insisting that Sandy and Neil go with her into the kitchen so Julie could greet her daughter.

"Merry Christmas, Mom," she said brightly, moving in to embrace Julie, but the older woman, instead, took her daughter's hands and held them out so she could get a better look at her outfit.

"Honey, this is gorgeous," Julie complimented. Their relationship had continued to stabilize while Marissa was in college until the point where they could both honestly say that they were good friends who not only loved one another but respected each other as well.

Finally succeeding in pulling her Mom into a hug, Marissa responded, "Thank you, but, really, all the compliments should go to Ryan. It was one of my Christmas presents from him."

Julie was so surprised she laughed good-naturedly. "Ryan," she teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek lightly, "I never imagined you as a fashion aficionado." As she had learned to trust Marissa, she had also learned to see just how much Ryan loved her daughter.

"Well, when the canvas is as beautiful as Marissa is, it's not so hard to shop for her."

Winking at him Julie pressed, "you also did a nice job picking out that ruby ring I see flashing on her finger."

"What," Ryan stuttered, "how did you notice that already?"

"I'm Julie Cooper Nichol Roberts, Ryan," she responded as if the answer was obvious. "It's what I do."

Marissa moved back into Ryan's body, wrapping her left arm around his waist while leaning into his side, her right hand resting gently on his chest, displaying her ring proudly for all to see. She enjoyed nothing more than to listen to her Mom and Ryan banter back and forth; after all, they were the two most important people in her life, but she was not going to be that lucky that afternoon.

Bursting through the front door, their voices a mixture of childish giggles, feminine softness, and masculine humor, the younger Cohen family made their entrance to the holiday celebration, drawing the four parents quickly to their side. Pleasantries were exchanged quickly and boisterously, smiles flashing all around. While Neil went out to their rental car to bring in the presents, Sandy pulled Seth aside to congratulate him, once again, on becoming a Dad for the third time, feeling the need to express his excitement and pride in person as well as over the phone and through email, and Kirsten and Julie cooed and awed over Summer's ever expanding pregnancy bump. Suddenly, there were four forgotten and pushed aside family members feeling on the outside of the merriment. In disbelief, Ryan and Marissa stood back and watched as everyone seemed to ignore the two quiet, shy, little boys who had been brushed aside in favor of baby news, their sad, lonely faces oddly reflecting those of their much older aunt and uncle.

As phrases and words assaulted their ears, 'I just felt the baby kick,' 'you're absolutely glowing, Summer,' 'I think we should break open a box of cigars later, son,' 'have you finished decorating the new nursery yet,' 'cesarean,' 'I saw this adorable Burberry pram online last week,' 'due date,' 'cravings,' 'we should really let you sit down and put your feet up,' 'did you bring your sonogram picture,' 'maternity clothes,' 'what names have you picked out so far,' Ryan and Marissa felt themselves slowly slipping out of the room. Quickly, the joy and light of the holiday celebration was dimming to an almost non-existent level. Green not only stood for Christmas trees and evergreen for Ryan and Marissa that Christmas season but envy as well.

-+-

That evening, the family dinner was well underway, but, unfortunately, it was anything but idyllic. While Sandy, Kirsten, Neil, Julie, Seth, and Summer were enthusiastically enjoying their meal, two ignored boys and one despondent couple merely pushed their food around on their plates, their appetites ruined by the constant talk of the new baby. Rosy smiles graced many a face and some eyes sparkled with exultant holiday spirit, a vast contrast to the painful tears illuminating the four orbs of bright blue and four irises of chocolate brown lamenting the fact that the one topic they wanted to ignore the most was the only one being discussed. However, the worst part was the evening was that those who were happy were completely oblivious to the pain they were putting some of their family members through.

"The only thing that would make today better," Sandy proclaimed thoughtfully, tossing his napkin aside to lean contently back in his seat, "is if another couple would announce that they plan on starting their family soon."

"Oh please, Dad," Seth argued, laughing, "like those two will ever want to have kids." Raising his eyebrows mischievously, he taunted, "it would definitely put a damper on their hobbies….if you get what I'm saying."

"Well, I disagree," Julie stood up for her daughter and son-in-law, "I think they would be wonderful parents." Motioning towards the two solemn boys sitting silently at the table, she pressed. "Cal and Nic could not ask for a better aunt and uncle. Ryan and Marissa are great with them."

Before Ryan and Marissa could respond though, Summer started laughing. "It's easy to be an aunt or an uncle," she dismissed. "You see the kids twice a year, and when you're sick of them or want some alone time, you just ship them back to their parents. There's no commitment, no stress, no real work involved."

Ever the plastic surgeon, Neil offered, "but think of how gorgeous their kids would be. Why, for just that reason alone those two need to have a least one baby."

"And preferably more than that," Kirsten added. "There's nothing better than being able to spoil one's grandchildren. Plus, I'd be able to see your kids," she told Ryan and Marissa, "much more often, because San Diego is so a lot closer than Providence."

Marissa could sense Ryan's discomfort. His hand was tightly gripping her own, as if her touch was the only thing keeping him calm, and she could feel how damp and clammy his skin was. She knew this conversation needed to end quickly, the sooner the better.

"Ryan and I are perfectly happy exactly as we are now," she said with determination and passion. "If we're ever lucky enough to have a child, then we will love it, but, for now, we're enjoying each other, our marriage, and the surprises that life brings us….together."

"As you should," Neil agreed with her. His response earned him a gracious smile from Marissa and a thankful nod from Ryan. However, not everyone was ready to accept her pronouncement and drop the subject.

"That's all well and good," Sandy chuckled, "but you two aren't spring chickens anymore. You're 33 years old. Nature's going to give up on you eventually."

"Plus, honey," Kirsten added attempting to be helpful, "you'll want to have your children when you're young enough to actually enjoy them."

"Ryan and I are in good shape. I don't think that will be a problem," Marissa replied testily.

"Yeah," Summer teased, "because of all the practicing you to do! If I had your sex life…."

"I really don't think this is an appropriate conversation to have in front of your children, Summer," Ryan snapped, his glares flashing dangerously at her, "nor is it any of your business what Marissa and I do in our private lives together."

Returning his angry glance, Summer responded, "well, if I can't comment about your personal life, then you should just keep your parenting advice to yourself. When you have two children one day and another on the way, maybe then I'll listen to your sage childrearing wisdom, but until then…."

"But you want children, I know you do," Julie interrupted. The fact that she was the one attempting to bring peace to the dining room table was enough to shock Summer quiet and draw everyone's attention to the fiery red head. "I remember when you were a little girl," she reminisced, smiling softly at her daughter, "you loved holding Caitlyn, and you were always such a great help to me when she was a baby. Then, when you got older, you were a wonderful babysitter. I'll never forget when I found your diary when you were sixteen, right after you and Ryan started dating…."

"Mom," Marissa exploded, suddenly embarrassed. "I can't believe you read my diary, and you are not going to share what it said!"

"Why not," Julie asked, clearly seeing no reason for discretion. "We're all family. Anyway," she continued, laughing softly at the memory, "at the time I about had a heart attack reading your little confessions, but now I find them amusing." Turning to everyone else and ignoring her daughter's warning glares, she explained. "She wrote about how she dreamed of some day marrying Ryan and how she wanted the two of them to have a big, happy family with as many children as they would be lucky enough to have."

Abruptly, Ryan stood up from the table, startling everyone but Marissa. Tearfully, she watched him walk away, in that moment silently hating every adult member of their family.

"What's up with him," Seth asked Marissa pointedly.

"Umm….," she struggled for a response. "He was getting a call he had to answer, a business one."

Annoyed, Kirsten exploded, "on Christmas?!"

"He, uh, he's in charge of a very important project," Marissa lied quickly, surprising even herself at how convincing she sounded. "The clients are foreign, don't celebrate Christmas, and there is a strict time deadline to work under. He had to take the call."

"Just another reason why you two will never have kids," Summer suggested confidently. "You're both too career oriented." By that point, Marissa was too annoyed and irate to even consider retorting to her sister-in-law's statement. It was a family dinner, after all, not to mention the fact that there were young children present. When Summer just continued talking though, Marissa realized it wouldn't have mattered anyway if she had said something; no one was interested in what she had to say. "There's no point to this conversation though," Summer pressed, smiling triumphantly, "because Ryan and Marissa aren't having a baby, and I am. We found out what we're having," she revealed practically jumping in her chair. "It's a girl! I love my sons," she dismissed casually, "but it will be so nice to have another woman in the house, someone to shop with, take to the spa, share my hobbies. Seth's already determined that she's going to be the best female video game player in the world, putting all the boys to shame."

_It's a girl, It's A Girl, IT'S A GIRL! _Summer's news caused an explosion of pain to ripple through Marissa. She could still remember her confession to Summer when they were little girls how much she wanted to have a daughter, she could imagine telling Ryan the news that they were going to have a baby girl, she could envision a beautiful, petite blonde haired, blue eyed angel with her Daddy's heart and innocence, and, because of these visions, she could not sit by and listen to another word.

Standing up quickly, she interrupted Summer, Julie, and Kirsten's eager discussion about what designer made the cutest infant clothing, shocking them silent with her actions. Right as she went to walk out of the room without an explanation, her eyes locked with those of her nephews, realizing they were hurting just as much as she and Ryan were. The ache might be different, but it didn't mean the sting wasn't as bad.

Their sorrowful expressions displayed perfectly how upset they were, and it was obvious that, not only did they feel inferior to their unborn sister, but they also felt disregarded and unwanted. How often had they been overlooked in favor of the baby; how often had they been unfairly compared in a negative light to the child they surely felt was replacing them in their parents' hearts? She and Ryan might need to feel each others comfort at that moment, but perhaps the best way to do that was to pretend they were parents for a few hours. As Sandy, Neil, and Seth went off to search for the congratulations cigars Sandy had mentioned early and Kirsten took Summer and Julie into her office to get online for baby clothes, Marissa motioned for Cal and Nic to follow her quietly outside, retreating to the baby free environment of the poolhouse, retreating to Ryan.

-+-

Ryan, Marissa, and their two nephews sat immersed in toys, opened Christmas presents, on the poolhouse floor. Seeing the young children smile and laugh merrily as they played brought happiness to the couple as they watched their brown eyed, curly haired companions lose themselves in their childhood imaginations and dreams. Nothing was more beautiful than a happy child.

"Uncle Ryan," Nic giggled, "you're cheating!"

"I am not," Ryan argued, making Marissa laugh at his immature behavior and the boys gasp out in shock when he stuck his tongue out at his nephews. They were in the middle of a very competitive challenge to see who could create the best building out of the thousands of colorful Legos spread out across the carpet.

"Uh huh," Cal agreed with his younger brother, "because you build houses. Right, Aunt Marissa?"

"He does," she answered, offering the five year old a gentle smile. "Plus, when he bought these for you guys last weekend, he bought himself a big box, too, and I found him playing with them not once, not twice, but three times this week."

Protesting, Ryan retorted, "But you ended up playing with me!"

"True, but I'm not an architect," Marissa pointed out smugly.

"And you also have two team members. It's three against one, and you guys are still complaining! What do you want me to do," Ryan asked, "build with a blindfold over my eyes?"

"Yeah," Nic yelled out excitedly.

Standing up and brushing the stray Legos off of his dress pants, Ryan nodded his head in accordance. "Fine, I can do that," he insisted, "but first," he reached out and grabbed a shrieking Cal in one arm and a giggling Nic in the other, "you two need disciplined."

"For what," they both wanted to know at the same time.

"For siding with your aunt," he answered them chuckling. "Don't you know we men have to stick together?" Before either of them could respond, he playfully tossed them down on the bed and started wrestling with them, their peals of mirth almost deafening.

Quickly, Marissa stood up and made her way towards her overnight bag wanting to get a picture of her husband and nephews playing together, but, as she heard their laughter turn into conspiring whispers, she knew something was up, but she realized the change in mood too late. Before she knew it, Ryan had picked her effortlessly off of the ground and tossed her over his shoulder, demanding to know what she was doing.

"You weren't trying to sneak off and leave us with cleanup duties were you, Marissa Atwood?"

"Put me down, Ryan!"

"Oh, no, I don't think. That's a punishable offence, shirking on clean up duties," he teased her. "I don't know boys, what should we do with her?"

Trying to explain herself, she insisted, "I was just trying to get my camera, honestly."

"Right, of course," Ryan pretended to agree with her, "we believe you." Suddenly, she was gently thrown down onto the bed as Ryan followed quickly after her. "But that doesn't mean you're not going to get in trouble."

"Tickle torture," the boys screamed jumping on their aunt. Before she knew what was happening, Ryan, Cal, and Nic were all mercilessly ticking her, laughing at her giggles and uncontrollable wiggling.

"Ryan, please," she begged, "Ryan, you've got to stop!" Struggling to talk again, she finally added, "I can't breathe."

"Alright, I think she learned her lesson, boys," Ryan instructed. He was sitting by the pillows on his knees above Marissa's head. Looking down to gaze in her eyes, he teased, "just don't let it happen again," but his playful moment soon turned more meaningful as he got lost in her loveliness.

Exhausted, her chest was rising rapidly as she tried to regain control of her breathing, her shining, magnificent eyes of blue reflecting the love and exhilaration he, too, was feeling in that moment. Unable to help himself, he lowered his lips to hers for a sweet and passionate, innocent and compelling, honest and charming embrace that neither of them would ever forget.

"Uncle Ryan," their oldest nephew complained, breaking through their moment, "stop!"

"Kissing is yucky," Nic added, proud of his statement.

"How about this," Marissa bargained. "We'll stop kissing if you two agree to help us pick up all these toys so we can get ready for bed. If you're going home with us tomorrow, we're going to have to be up really early to leave in time."

Neither boy had known they were going to be staying with their Uncle Ryan and Aunt Marissa during their Christmas vacation, so it took nothing else to get them to work quickly and efficiently to clean up the mess the four of them had created. Within a few minutes, everything was packed away, they had retreated to the main house and Seth's old bedroom where the boys were to sleep, and they were both changed into their pajamas. Because Cal was older, he was allowed to stay up later than his little brother, so, while Marissa read Nic a bedtime story, rocking him in the chair Kirsten had put into their temporary room, Ryan took Cal back downstairs to the family room to play video games for half an hour.

"Uncle Ryan," Cal said as they held hands walking up the stairs to tuck him into bed, "I wish we could play with you and Aunt Marissa everyday."

"Me, too, buddy," he agreed sadly with his young nephew, "me, too." Picking him up just to feel him close, he pushed open the bedroom door only to come to a complete halt as soon as he saw Marissa and Nic. The little boy was curled up in his wife arms, his hands clasped tightly around her neck as he slept on her shoulder while Marissa's hands clutched him closely, rubbing soothing, gentle circles into his tiny back. Unable to fight his emotions, an unbidden tear fell quickly from Ryan's eye, splashing onto his shirt. No one would ever know of that emotional release; there was no sign of it left, but Ryan would never forget that moment. Choking a sob back, he stood their in awe of Marissa and the little boy he couldn't help but feel should be their child, wanting, wishing, needing to someday give her that moment again with their own son or daughter.

"I love you," a small, timid voice broke through his thoughts as Cal hugged him tightly and placed a kiss on his cheek. It was exactly what Ryan needed to hear.

Placing the small boy in the bed, he pulled the covers up and tucked him in before replying, "I love you, too. Good night." Walking over to Marissa quietly so as to not startle her, he lowered himself down to his knees, letting his hand softly brush her hair off of her forehead as he spoke softly trying to wake her. "Marissa, baby," he said, but she didn't respond. "Honey," he raised his voice slightly as he tried again, shaking her shoulder delicately in the process.

"Hey," she greeted him with a subtle smile when she opened his eyes, yawning slightly. "Is Cal in bed yet?"

"Yep. Here," he added," taking Nic out of her arms and carrying him over to join his brother. Marissa followed him, leaning down over each boy and placing a kiss on each of their foreheads as she said goodnight.

Walking out of the room together, their arms encircled around each others waists, Marissa whispered softly, "sweet dreams," before shutting the door behind them. They would get to do this for a whole week while the boys stayed with them, tuck them in, take care of them, pretend they were their parents, and she knew Ryan, just like her, could not wait.

-+-

"Ugh, Ryan," Marissa questioned her husband as they walked past the poolhouse after exiting the living room on the premise that they were retiring to go to bed, "did you forget your way?"

Smiling over at her, he responded, "we're not going to sleep yet." Leading her towards the pathway that would take them to the Cohen's private stretch of beach, he explained. "I have a surprise for you. It's not something I would normally do, but I just thought we needed it….you know….after everything." Just as she had taken care of him the night they had found out his sperm count was extremely low five months before, he needed to help her disregard their family dinner, make her forget the knowledge that her childhood best friend was having the daughter she dreamed so much of, and remind her just how much he was in love with her.

"But what about the family, I mean, should we really be doing this?"

"Like they'll even notice," he dismissed, laughing. "Your Mom and Neil have had a little too much eggnog, wine, and champagne to even realize that we're gone, we heard Summer snoring as we walked down the stairs, Sandy is busy playing with that simulated golf game we bought him, Kirsten is still shopping on the computer, and Seth is hiding in the pantry so he can eat all the Christmas cookies. I think we'll be safe."

"Well, in that case," she smiled happily, leaning in to rest her head in the crook of his shoulder, "lead the way."

Together, they ascended the slight hill that took them to the shoreline. Without a word, Ryan helped her sit down in the sand, lowering himself behind her so that she could rest against him. Kissing her hair, her blissfully aromatic hair that smelled of her signature apple shampoo, he started talking softly, explaining whey they were cuddled together on the beach during the final hours of Christmas.

"When I was sitting in the car this morning waiting for you to finish getting ready, I heard the weather forecast. They said that it's supposed to be one of the clearest nights all year, that the view of the stars would be amazing, and I just thought," he stopped, smiling sheepishly, if there had been light she would have been able to see the deep scarlet coloring his ears, "that maybe you'd like to watch for a shooting star, make a wish."

As he waited for a response, she turned around in his arms, sitting in his lap to kiss his jaw tenderly. "You have to be the sweetest," she said between kisses, "most loving, sexy husband in the whole world." Ryan chuckled at her final attribute, bringing her mouth to his and kissing her softly before pulling back to ask her a question.

"So then, I take it you like this idea?"

"Like is not a strong enough word," she admonished him. "I ADORE it. Do you want me to show just how much," she asked as her hands trailed down his chest to his belt buckle.

"That better be a rhetorical question," he teased her, flipping her over to lay down beneath him as she giggled girlishly, "because you know my answer to that proposition is always and will always be the same thing."

Slipping her tongue into his mouth, Marissa sent his senses into overdrive as she slowly, torturously slowly, removed his shirt. There was no need to talk anymore; their hands, lips, bodies could express everything they wanted to say to each other from that point on. As the waves washed against the beach, the occasional spray of salt water tickling the lovers' bare bodies, Ryan and Marissa made love slowly, sensually, soothingly, secretively, serendipitously.

Breaking away from their never ending embrace, Ryan whispered into Marissa's ear, "look up at the sky, baby." Together, their eyes lifted to the endless black abyss of dreams that served as their shelter, their protection, their companion in the otherwise solitary night. There, above them, a shooting star danced across their joined bodies, and, as they reached the culmination of their ardor and passion together, as one, the waves of euphoria and pleasure cascading through every particle of their beings, Ryan and Marissa wished upon a star hoping for a Christmas miracle.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

It was too early. That was the first thought that ran through Marissa Atwood's mind that Friday morning as she felt her husband plant gentle kisses along her bare and exposed shoulder. It had been a long night before, definitely pleasant, but she hadn't gotten much sleep, especially because there had been a spontaneous encore performance a few hours before, and all she wanted to do was curl her long, tired body around her husband's stronger one, let him hold her tightly, and sleep the day away. After all, he was off, taking a vacation day to give them a long weekend, and her work for the week was finished. Apparently, Ryan had other ideas though.

"Marissa," he whispered in her ear, tickling her skin and making goosebumps cover her already chilled body, "you know you want to get up."

Yawning and unable to open her eyes for she was too tired, she responded slowly, her voice low and raspy with sleep. "Baby, I love the fact that you want to seduce me again, and, trust me, it does sound really appealing, but you have to give me some more recovery time. I'm exhausted." Rolling over onto her stomach and pulling the blankets up over her head, Marissa assumed that would end their discussion. She was wrong.

"You," Ryan teased her, pulling their comforter down to expose the silky smooth skin of her neck and kissing it, "are," he pulled the blanket down slightly further, leaving several kisses along the expanse of her toned back, "so," his words were cut off again as his lips left a warm trail to the seductive depression right above her derrière, "arrogant," he finished sliding his naked body down to lay on top of her completely vulnerable one. "It did not even occur to me to try and seduce you."

"Your words say one thing, but your actions say another."

"Well, what does this tell you," he asked her, carefully getting off her body and walking away from the bed. It sounded as if he went into their closet briefly before reappearing at her side.

"This tells me that I'm cold again," she whined, blindly reaching for the covers. "Ryan, come back to bed. We should be sleeping in all morning and then making love all afternoon." Finally succeeding in grasping the blanket, she pulled it back up over her, snuggling down inside the warmth it provided. Moments later though, it was snatched away, and her vulnerable body was left to shiver in the cold.

Normally, she was easy to get along with, and it was very rare when her husband would get on her nerves, but she was tired, grumpy, and wanted him to go back to sleep with her. Sitting up abruptly in bed, her eyes flashing open in annoyance, she scanned the room for his figure, fiery words tripping easily off her tongue. "Ryan Atwood, just what the hell do you think….," but her ire disappeared just as quickly as it had materialized, her tone softening. "Why is my suitcase out?"

Standing there in front of her, a wide smile lighting up his face, Ryan was dressed in only a pair of clean boxers, obviously up to something. Suddenly, she was no longer tired. Returning his warm expression with one of her own, she hooked her finger and motioned for him to join her on the bed. She hadn't seen him look as excited in years.

"I don't know if I should," he taunted her, referring to her invitation to sit down beside her, even as he walked across the room, "you might become the seducer now, and we don't have time for that."

Falling into their bed, he leaned his body up against the headboard, pulling her into his arms so she could sit perched upon his lap. Resting her hands against his chest, Marissa grinned playfully up at her husband, the early morning light catching the sparkling rings on her fingers and casting beams of radiance around the bedroom. Finally, her curiosity getting the better of her, she couldn't hold in her questions any longer. "What did you do?"

"Well," he started, drawing out his words as if he wanted to prolong her torture, "this is a very special weekend."

That was a good answer. Leaning in, Marissa placed a gentle kiss upon his lips, snickering when he moaned in complaint as she pulled away. "Valentines Day is special," she concurred, "but that still doesn't explain why my suitcase is sitting packed and ready in the middle of our room."

"I don't know, maybe it's just me," Ryan proclaimed sarcastically, rolling his eyes, "but when I go on vacation, I like to take clothes with me. However, seeing as you're practically an exhibitionist…."

"I am not," she exclaimed, smacking him harshly while, at the same time, leaning in to cup his face and kiss his cheek again, "and the only reason that I'm always naked is because you undress me as soon as you get home."

"I do do that, don't I?"

"Umhm," she concurred, her lips too busy to actually respond in anything more than a mumble.

"Are you really sure you want to be this affectionate? You don't even know where we're going yet," he reminded her. Marissa could feel him smirk at her lack of a response as she continued to plant gentle, delicate, alluring kisses on his neck. "It could be a weekend conference for work where I'll be in meetings all day and you'll have to find something to do to amuse yourself."

Dismissing his suggestion, she replied, "I have your credit cards."

"Or maybe we're going to a truck stop, flea bag motel where the only source of entertainment for miles around is a bar."

"I survived the hell hole we stayed at on the way to Tijuana," she reminded him smugly. "In fact, I'll always remember that place fondly, because it was there that I slept in your arms for the very first time."

"So then you don't want to know where we're going this weekend?"

"Of course I want to know," she answered him, shifting in his lap so that she was relaxing her back against his chest, pulling his arms up to wrap around her body and placing them to rest on her plump breasts, "but, as long as I'm with you, I really don't care where we go."

"Good answer," he responded, kissing her shoulder as he took the invitation she presented him with and massaged her eager breasts, "but I have to say you've been especially….friendly lately. Did I do something special?"

"You could say that."

He laughed at her vague remark. "Care to elaborate?"

"That depends," Marissa revealed turning her face around to gaze into his amused eyes, "do you want to exchange gifts now or later?"

"I have a feeling if we open each others presents now, we'll never get on the road. So," he suggested standing up with her cradled protectively in his arms, "I think we should take a shower….together…"

"And I thought you said you weren't going to try to seduce me," she interrupted him, smirking.

Ignoring her comment, he just continued. "Then I was thinking that we could head up to Big Bear after we get ready, check in this afternoon, and maybe have dinner in our room, so that tomorrow we can hit the slopes."

"What about the presents," Marissa asked enthusiastically. "I'm really excited about giving you your present!"

"I was thinking we'd actually wait until Valentines Day," he revealed, "maybe a little breakfast in bed while we open our gifts."

Complaining, Marissa whined, "RYAN! I don't want to wait that long!"

"Well that's just too bad isn't it," he taunted, throwing her over his shoulder and smacking her pert derrière as they walked into their master bathroom, "because you're just going to have to be patient." Kicking the door shut, he moved them towards the glass shower, her protests quickly being smothered by his kisses, her objections drowned out by the water pounding down their backs and the movements of his body inside of her.

-+-

Sitting in front of the fireplace in their room, a roaring fire casting rosy shadows upon her surroundings, Marissa sat sipping a mug of hot chocolate, merely relaxing the early afternoon hours away. She had just returned from a morning at the spa, a surprise Ryan had booked for her, while he had gone out to get his first snow boarding lesson. Now, as she let the quiet of the inn wash over her tranquil body, she wondered just how she would be able to convince Ryan to open their gifts early. It had taken everything within her power to not give it to him a week before when she had wrapped the small, square box, and, at the thought of having to wait even twelve more hours, she thought she would explode with impatience.

Hearing his hotel card slide into their door, Marissa smiled in anticipation of seeing her husband. Just as he had suggested, they had arrived the day before in the afternoon to check in and spend the rest of the day and evening in their suite making love. If she had anything to say about it, they would do the same thing that evening.

"Hey," Ryan called out to her, coming over to her side and placing a kiss on her cheek, "you look cozy. I see your trip to the spa must have gone well."

"It was amazing," she revealed, motioning for him to sit beside her after he had removed his jacket. Snuggling into his arms, Marissa let her head rest against his chest before continuing to talk. "Everything has been perfect, the surprise vacation, the inn, my visit to the spa. I really don't see why you got me any presents…not that I'm complaining, mind you." Smiling innocently, she flirted with him. "I would never turn down presents."

"And here we are again." Ryan said as he stood up from the couch and walked towards the closet where their things were hanging up. With a slight pout on her face, Marissa settled back into the couch, alone, watching his every movement. "I see we're back on the present topic, but," he protested when she went to interject, "I don't care what you say. You're not changing my mind. We are not opening a single gift until tomorrow. End of discussion."

"That's not fair," she argued, standing up and chasing after his retreating figure. "How come you get to decide this?"

"Because, I refuse to open my presents right now which means, even if you give them to me, they're just going to sit there unopened, and you can't get yours, because I had the concierge hide them under the front desk so you couldn't snoop."

Wrapping her arms around his torso, she slipped her fingers underneath his shirt. "Fine, but just for the record, you're no fun."

"You seemed to be having fun last night."

"Yeah,' she snapped at him playfully, "I'm talking right now, not you. Anyway, because you refuse to open presents, I guess you'll have to find some other way to keep me entertained."

Letting go of him, she watched as he rummaged through the closet, ignoring her request for an amusement, and quickly shed her clothes. Standing there simply in a festive, holiday themed set of lingerie, she waited for his attention to, once again, be placed back upon her.

"I already have that covered," Marissa heard Ryan telling her before turning around. "We're going skiing…" His voice trailed off as he saw her appearance. "What's this," he motioned towards her lack of clothes. "If you go out like that you'll get frost bite."

"Plus," she added impertinently, "you'll get in a fight, because I know how possessive you are when another guy looks at me, which means we'll only end up back in the room so I can take care of you. So, why don't we just never leave in the first place? I think we'll both enjoy the evening more that way."

"Or you could get dressed," Ryan offered, handing her the clothes she had so unceremoniously dropped on the floor. "We're at the mountains, so we ski."

"I don't want to go outside; I want to keep you all to myself," Marissa pouted. "Besides, we'll have more fun alone."

"If I wanted to spend all weekend in bed, I wouldn't have booked this trip for us. We can have sex whenever we want, but our schedules don't always work out well enough that we can take a weekend getaway to the mountains. I thought you'd want to ski. You're the one who pushed me to learn how to in the first place and then taught me."

"I just…," she tried to explain, crossing her arms protectively in front of her chest, "I guess I just wanted you to myself. It'll be crowded on the hills, and I thought a quiet evening in would be nice." When she felt tears start to prickle her eyes, she turned away quickly not wanting Ryan to see how upset she was getting over nothing.

"We spent all day yesterday and last night alone," he pointed out, coming up to wrap his arms around her. "What's up with you? Normally it's like pulling teeth to get you to stop skiing. You love it. That's why I booked this trip."

She was silent for a moment unsure of how to answer his question. There was a reason she didn't want to go out, but Marissa knew she couldn't tell him….at least not yet, not like this. "I don't know," she shrugged her shoulders, "I'm kind of tired, and I just don't want to go out, get all wet, and then freeze for the rest of the day." Taking a deep breath, she turned back around in his arms. "But you should go," she suggested, smiling at him warmly. "This isn't just my trip; you're supposed to be enjoying yourself, too, and, if you want to ski, then hit the slopes. I'll just stay here, take a nap, maybe lounge in the tub for a while before getting ready for dinner. We are still going out to dinner, right?"

"Yeah."

His answer was short, curt, and Marissa knew she had hurt him. It wasn't intentional, but that didn't mean the rift between them wasn't as real. Without another word to her, he picked up his coat and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, the tears she had been holding back fell quickly down her pale, apologetic face. This weekend was supposed to be perfect for then, and, suddenly, nothing was going the way she had planned.

-+-

Their elevator ride down to the lobby floor and to the restaurant was silent, the unpleasant tension between them suffocating and claustrophobic. Ryan had returned to their room a half hour before to get ready for dinner, tired, sulking, cold, and wind burnt. She knew he wasn't mad at her, just confused and slightly wounded, but she didn't know what to say in order to fix things between them and make their relationship mirror their closeness from the night before. So, instead, she did nothing, simply walking after him as the elevator doors opened, and he made his way to the restaurant.

As they reached the entrance to the fancy eatery, a large group of people, a party who had just finished dining together, exited, the crush of their bodies attempting to separate them, Ryan's hand, as if on instinct, reached out for hers, taking her palm into his, and pulling her closely to him. It was a simple, natural gesture, but it was enough to break through their tension and make her relax. Leaning her body into his, Marissa felt a warm thrill when his arm moved to wrap tightly around her waist, drawing her to him. As he helped her into her chair, she smiled up at him, catching his hand in hers as soon as he sat down across from her.

"I missed you this afternoon."

"Well, that's your own fault," Ryan told her harshly, pulling his hand away before she could respond. Obviously, she had said the wrong thing.

Taking that as a sign, she sat back in her seat, eyes cast down to her lap as she waited for their waiter to bring the menus. Silently, they both perused the restaurant's options; the only words spoken from his last statement until their food was served were their orders. Finally, unable to handle the distance between them any longer, Marissa offered her husband an apology.

"Look, Ryan, I'm sorry. You're right," she acknowledged, pleading with him to not only listen to her words but to believe them as well, "normally, I do love to ski, and I love that you planned this trip around my hobbies, because that's so sweet of you, but sometimes a girl just feels like being lazy. It had nothing to do with not wanting to be with you or not wanting to share this vacation with you. You, I love you; I always want to be with you, day and night if I can be. I don't want this….thing, this issue to come between us and ruin our weekend. So," she glanced up at him, her eyes dewy and soft, their crystal blue orbs radiating love and commitment, "can we just enjoy the rest of the time we have here together? I swear, we'll do anything you want to do tonight….as long as we don't have to leave the room."

"Sure," he agreed, offering her a small smile. Seeing him grin at her, Marissa sighed contently feeling the pieces of their relationship slowly falling back into place. True, they had only been at odds for a few hours, but she hated it whenever they fought…especially on Valentines Day weekend. "Why don't I pay our bill, order dessert, and we'll take it back up to the room," he offered, standing up and rounding the table to stand at her side. Bending down, Ryan placed a tender kiss on her cheek before walking off to find their waiter.

"Ryan," she called out stopping him mid stride. As he turned back around to face her, she asked, "can you make the dessert chocolate….really rich and sweet?"

His amused smirk gave her the answer she was looking for, and, as she settled back in her chair to wait for him, his soft chuckles could be heard floating over the lull of conversation filling the candlelit restaurant. _Just a little while longer_, she told herself, _and then everything will be perfect._

-+-

It was almost midnight on a Saturday, and Marissa Cooper was awake…by herself, her husband sound asleep beside her. After they had gotten back to their room, she had changed into another piece of lingerie, while Ryan had stripped down to his boxers, climbing into their bed and patting the space beside him for her to join. She assumed they would have dessert in bed….both the literal and figurative kind, but, instead, she had ended up eating both her own and his molten chocolate lava cake with chocolate mousse and strawberry garnishes while watching a cheesy romantic comedy that made her cry, her husband sleeping undisturbed beside her while snoring loudly. Granted, the cakes had been delicious, and she didn't regret eating them, but she would have rather been able to spend time with Ryan while sharing the decadent dessert, only to top off their evening by making love. But, apparently, or so it seemed to her, he had gotten sick of her and no longer wanted to be with her.

The idea that he was tired, that his day spent on the slopes had physically exhausted him while their bickering had emotionally made him weary never occurred to Marissa. She was too upset and disappointed that their weekend was being ruined by a petty fight to realize her husband's non-existent sexual appetite did not stem from a lack of desire but from a genuine sense of fatigue. So, as the movies played on causing her tears to continue falling down her stained cheeks, Marissa sat fretting and plotting, her mind a confusion of worry about her husband and their relationship and of a desire to punish him for being mad at her. Eventually, she settled on an action that was motivated by a combination of both impulses.

Just as the clock struck midnight, she crawled out of bed and tiptoed to her suitcase, unzipping it as quietly as she could, and removed the smallest present inside of it. Although she had gotten Ryan several things for Valentines Day, this was the only gift she cared about. Placing it on her nightstand, she slid back into bed, moving her body to spoon against the back of her husband. With one arm, she propped herself up so she could look down at his peacefully slumbering face, while the other inched its way over his torso and down the expanse of his bare, chiseled, abdomen, dipping its way inside of his boxers.

"Happy Valentines Day, Baby," she purred seductively into his ear, her roaming fingers already waking up at least some portions of his anatomy.

"Hmmm…," he sighed out in contentment, rolling his body over onto his back to give her teasing hand better access to continue her nurturing and attention, "that feels good…., but you're still not getting your present yet."

"That's okay," she dismissed, moving to straddle his waist, her free hand running idly up and down his chest. "All I want is for you to open just one tiny, little, insignificant gift that I got you. That's all, and, as soon as you're done, if you really want to, I'll let you go back to bed, and you can sleep in as late as you want. Scout's honor."

"You were never a girl scout, Marissa."

Tightening her grip on him to almost a painful level, she squeezed him roughly, making Ryan's eyes pop open in surprise. "That's not the point," she replied in a huff. She really wasn't mad at him. In fact, she actually found his quick, sarcastic comments to be cute and endearing, but she also knew that nothing drove her husband as wild with longing as when they were mad at each other and fighting.

Startling her, he flipped them over so that he was hovering over her, his nearness and the power he exuded making her body quake with desire. "You're not being very nice."

"Well neither are you," she returned, staring him down. "You've been demanding, snide, petulant, and a bore all day, and I'm sick of it."

"You are, huh," he taunted her, lowering his mouth to her chest and delicately nipping at her aroused nipples through her thin negligee. Looking up at her with a challenge in his eyes, he pushed, "what are you going to do about it?"

"Two can play this game," she told him smugly, crossing her arms over her chest to block his path of assault. Unfortunately for her senses in their battle of wills, he simply changed tactics and started running one of his hands along her bare thighs, dipping his fingers down between her legs in an attempt to distract her. "If you want to be mean to me, I can be mean right back. No sex, no foreplay, I'll even cut you off from any bodily contact."

"Yeah, but I'm bigger than you," he retorted, taking her bottom lip between his teeth and tugging on it slightly to make his point. "It's going to be pretty hard for you to get away from me. And besides," he played his trump card, "I can tell you want it just as bad as I do right now if not more."

"But it's easier for me to calm back down. You could end up laying here uncomfortable all night long."

"Fine, I give in," Ryan conceded as he dropped his body playfully on top of hers ending their mutual seduction. "I'm wide awake, so I won't be able to go back to sleep, and I'm horny as hell. What do you want from me?"

Pressing her hands against his chest, Marissa motioned for him to let her up. He moved quickly, but as she sat up on her knees to reach across the bed, she felt his hands take hold of her hips, his fingers sliding up under her short, sheer nightgown as his torso pressed against her back and his lips made contact with the delicate skin of her hairline. "Okay, back down," she ordered him, giggling when he took her with him and positioned her, as was their habit, on his lap. "Now, open this," she demanded, carefully placing the small, square box in his large, strong hands.

Resting her head against his shoulder so she could look up and observe his face, she watched the play of emotions on his countenance as he tore off the bright, shiny red paper and endless curls of pink ribbon, tossing their remnants to the side, and opened the lid to the jewelry case. "Wow, Marissa," he teased her, "an empty box. Baby, you shouldn't have."

"Oh quit being a smartass," she laughed at his antics. "There's a card in there."

"It must be a miniature one," he quipped dumping the contents of tissue paper out and leafing through it until he came upon a fine, thin, creamy, appointment card. "I don't get it," he finally responded after reading it. "So, you have an appointment at a Doctor Williamson's office this Thursday at 2:00. Why is that important?"

"Boys really are stupid, aren't they," Marissa complained, taking the gift box out of his hands and letting it drop to the floor. Pointing to the doctor's title, she instructed him, "read the small print."

"Doctor Emily Williamson, Obstetrician and Gynecologist," Ryan followed her directions. As soon as the words resonated in his mind, Marissa watched as the very important appointment card fluttered out of his hands in shock to land as lightly as a feather on her stomach. "Does this mean what I think this means," he finally questioned her after a lengthy amount of silence had passed between them. "Are you….you're not right? I mean….the doctor said it was nearly impossible, and that was only eight months ago, but this card….your appointment….it's my present."

She couldn't take it any longer; he was too damn slow. "Honey, I'm pregnant," she cried out elatedly, turning around and practically jumping up and down on his lap. Leaning in, she captured his shocked and agape mouth in a desperate kiss, taking it over and over again as if she literally craved for his taste. When neither one of them could stay in the embrace for even one more moment, she pulled away, her chest heaving and out of breath, only to smack him upside the head roughly.

"Oww," Ryan yelled out, rubbing the spot her hand had come in contact with his face, "what the hell was that for? Pregnant women really are hormonal and crazy!"

"That's for making me wait all weekend to tell you! Now do you get why I couldn't go skiing with you this afternoon?"

"Well you could have just told me how much you wanted me to open the present," he grumbleed, his face immediately showing signs of apology when her eyes flashed with annoyance. "Alright fine," he conceded, "so you did tell me, and I didn't listen. I'm sorry. From now on I'll do everything and anything you ask me to, promise."

"Anything," she asked innocently, removing her negligee.

"If you insist," Ryan mock complained, pulling the blankets up over their heads to the sound of his wife's eager giggles. It would be a long time that night before either Ryan or Marissa fell asleep….and an even longer time before they would open the presents they had bickered about all weekend. They had better things to do as they celebrated: each other.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Hey Everyone! Sorry I haven't been around much the past couple of days, but, aside from school starting back up again (it's going to be a VERY hectic semester), I've also had internet problems. I promise I'll get caught up on all your wonderful comments as soon as I can, but, in the meantime, enjoy a post. While I've been unable to play online, I've at least been writing. :D Thanks for being patient!_

Charlynn

Chapter Five

Winter had turned to spring, and the Cohen-Cooper-Roberts-Atwood family, which had just added a new member the month before when Summer had given birth to a healthy daughter, Stella Chloe after two of her mother's favorite design houses, was about to learn of another soon-to-be born grandchild. As the sun was about to set over the picturesque seaside town, its glowing light illuminating the finely clipped lawns and professionally manicured flower beds, Ryan and Marissa Atwood were walking hand in hand from their car to the restaurant where the parental figures in their life were waiting for them. Two months had passed since their unforgettable Valentines Day weekend at Big Bear, and Marissa was safely into her second trimester where the chance of miscarriage greatly decreased. Feeling confident in her pregnancy, they had called Sandy, Kirsten, Julie, and Neil to organize a dinner in San Diego, the four adults driving down to meet them, in order to share their wonderful news.

She was just starting to show, and, embracing her newfound curves, wanting to share with the world that she was finally going to be a Mommy, Marissa was wearing a maternity dress that night that highlighted her still small pregnancy bump. Completing her simple look, she wore sandals and the various pieces of jewelry Ryan, over the years, had bought for her that she never took off. Her makeup was light and airy, her hair pulled back in a simple, casual bun, but no one who looked at her would notice anything but the bright, effortless smile that emphasized just how content and joyful she was. Ryan, on the other hand, seemed to fade into his wife, completing her and losing himself in her vision; she was the only thing he saw, the only thing he wanted to see.

Joining their free hands together, their fingers clasped tightly, Ryan opened the door for her as they walked into the dimly lit interior of the restaurant. "Are you ready for this," he turned towards her, unable to stop himself from returning her large, ecstatic grin. "I mean, once we tell them, there's no going back. They will be constantly calling us, sending way too many presents for one baby to handle, and your Mom will probably insist that she be allowed in the delivery room with us."

"I know we'll probably regret telling them later, but I just want to share the news with the whole world right now. I'm honestly surprised I've been able to keep it just between us this long."

Teasing her, he replied, "I'm sure the neighbors have some idea of what's going on, considering the fact that I don't think a day's gone past yet when you haven't come home with at least one bag from a baby store."

"I'm not that bad," Marissa defended herself, laughing at his comment despite the fact that he was picking on her. "And I've seen the packages that get delivered to the house all the time containing various things you order online. You might have to remodel the upstairs to make the nursery bigger to fit all the toys you've bought the baby so far."

As the waiter guided them to the table where their four guests were waiting, Ryan asked her, "so, how do you want to do this? We already told them we have news, so they probably have their own predictions about what we want to share with them, but, if they're wrong, do you want to come right out and tell them the news, or do you want to give them hints and tease them a little bit?"

"I don't see how they won't realize it right away," she retorted sarcastically. "It's not like I'm doing anything to hide the fact that I'm pregnant."

"Yeah, but you're barely showing. No matter how easy it is for us to see the changes in your body, other people won't pick up on all the small details."

"Plus," Marissa returned cheekily, "they are getting pretty old which means their vision is starting to go bad."

Rounding the corner to their table, Ryan was still chuckling at her comment when all four adults snapped out of their seats to greet them. The moment was complete chaos as hugs and hellos were exchanged and pictures of little Stella were shared, the small group of excited family members drawing the amused attention of the other restaurant patrons. When they finally sat down, calm enough to let the drone of their six voices waiver off to form a conversation, Julie was the first to speak.

"You look lovely as always, honey," she complimented her daughter. "Did Ryan pick out that outfit, too?"

"Actually, this one was all me."

"Well, I agree with your Mother," Kirsten added, smiling at her daughter-in-law. "I don't know if I've ever seen you look this beautiful…and healthy. Have you switched makeup, and, if so, let me know what you're using before we leave so I can pick some up and try it myself."

"I haven't changed anything," she responded honestly, amused when both older women seemed to ignore her response and immediately start a conversation between themselves about recent improvements in the beauty field. "Can you talk about oblivious," Marissa leaned over to whisper in her husband's ear as he pretended to listen to Sandy and Neil's intense discussion about the latest golf course that had opened in Newport.

"You should have just purchased one of those question mark t-shirts and worn that tonight," Ryan suggested, laughing softly with her. "Although, they might not have caught on even then."

"Plus, I'm not sure if I shouldn't take what they're saying as insulting. If they think I look healthy at almost four months pregnant, are they inferring that I looked unhealthy before?"

Nuzzling her neck, he kissed her silky smooth skin just below her jawbone before speaking softly, his words meant for her ears and her ears alone. "Well you must have been doing something right if you turned me on enough to get pregnant in the first place."

Breaking them from their spell, Sandy's loud, infectiously excited voice rang out across the table. "Aren't you two awfully pleased with yourselves and in high spirits tonight? I told you Kirsten," he turned to address his wife, "I told you Ryan got promoted. With all the hard work he puts into his job, it was only a matter of time before they approached him to become a junior partner."

"Not so fast," Julie interrupted him, sending a favorable smile in the young, loving couple's direction. "I'm sure Ryan is very good at his job, and, because he's my son-in and-law, I'm definitely glad he can give me daughter the lifestyle she deserves, but don't jump to conclusions. This promotion could be Marissa's. She works just as hard as Ryan does, and no one on the West Coast has discovered as much talent as she has. That company she works for would fall apart if she had to leave….even if for a few months."

Taking the bait, Marissa replied. "I hope it won't fall apart." Smirking to herself when all four parental figures turned to look intently at her as she spoke, their immediate interest apparent, she only continued when it appeared as if they were about to fall out of their chairs in anticipation. "If they can't hold things together while I'm off for a few months, then I won't have a job to go back to."

"Did Ryan get a special assignment overseas," Kirsten asked breathlessly, proud of her adopted son. "Where are you guys going? London, Paris, Madrid, or is it someplace more exotic, perhaps Tokyo or Calcutta? This is amazing news!"

"Actually," Ryan answered for his wife, "we won't be going anywhere for a while, especially if it involves flying."

"You know," Neil added in, sighing in sympathetic frustration, "I heard the airlines were about to strike again. This country damn near falls apart when that happens. Was it just confirmed?"

Befuddled, Ryan quickly responded, "I have no idea what you're talking about. As far as I know, the airlines are fine; we….well Marissa, to be exact, just can't travel."

"You're too happy to be sick," Sandy surmised, watching them closely. "Are you perhaps moving, maybe you've bought a new house, and Marissa is taking time off to remodel it and move everything in?"

"No," she ended the discussion about them moving, "Ryan and I love our house. They'll probably have to bury us inside of it before we voluntarily leave."

"Wait, I'm confused," Kirsten admitted, "let's go back for a second. Did someone get promoted or not?"

"No," Ryan answered her quickly and easily.

"And you're not going on an extended vacation or traveling for work, and you're not moving, right," she continued to question them.

Nodding her head, Marissa responded, "exactly."

"So then what's all this fuss about," Julie finally demanded. "Don't get me wrong, I have no problem driving down here to see you, but you were insistent that you had some good news. I don't know about everyone else," she motioned towards her best friends and former husband, "but I, for one, just want you to tell us already. What's going on?"

Sharing a quick glance with her husband, Marissa squeezed his hand before squealing out excitedly, "I'm pregnant!"

Expecting a wave of animation and best wishes amongst a few, emotional tears, they were both startled when they were met with absolute silence. Looking around the table at the faces staring back at them, Marissa and Ryan couldn't help but chuckle at the wide eyed, shocked expressions radiating from their family members. Obviously, they had taken everyone by surprise. Finally though, the bewilderment turned to enthusiasm, the wide eyes turned to watering ones, and the silence was disrupted as they all, once again, stood up to embrace the young couple and to offer them their heartfelt congratulations. Several moments later after Marissa placed a gentle kiss on Ryan's cheek while he was involved in a high energy conversation with Sandy, Kirsten, and Neil, she let her Mother lead her to the bathroom so they could talk privately.

As soon as they were alone, Marissa was touched beyond words when she felt her Mom pull her into a tight, nurturing embrace, whispering words of encouragement and support in her ear. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," she revealed, breaking their embrace. "With Caitlyn off traipsing around the world and claiming she's too busy for romance, I never expected her to settle down and have children. However, you and Ryan have been married for ten years already and, contrary to my many examples, happily so, but I was starting to lose hope."

Realizing she could confide in her Mom, Marissa revealed, "it wasn't that we didn't want children; sometimes these things just a while."

"Oh, honey," Julie empathized, "did you guys have trouble conceiving? Why didn't you say anything? I know I wouldn't have been able to exactly help you, but I could have been there, holding your hand through this, supporting you."

"And I appreciate that, Mom, I do, but this was just something that Ryan and I had to together…as husband and wife."

Suddenly, Julie's face paled considerably. "Oh my god, and there I was on Christmas reminding you both of how much you wanted children when you weren't even sure you were going to be able to. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Marissa reassured her, taking the older woman's hand in her own and squeezing it gently. "Besides," she grinned mischievously, "maybe your….encouragement helped. It certainly served to motivate Ryan that night."

"Are you serious," Julie laughed out of surprise at her daughter's words and her audacity. "On Christmas….in your in-laws' house?"

"As for the date of conception, it appears Christmas may have been the lucky day, but it's hard to pinpoint, and as for doing….that in the Cohens' house, although it wouldn't have been the first time, we actually were a little bit more adventurous…and private."

Shaking her head, Julie remarked, "okay, that's enough information. There are some things even I don't want to know about. Now, come on Mommy," she teased her daughter, "that little miracle you're carrying needs fed…and it's Grandma wouldn't turn down a free meal either."

Amidst shared laughter, the two women so much alike and, yet, so different, returned to their party, the older one watching her daughter closely the entire time while the younge woman only had eyes for her husband….just as it should be.

-+-

"All we have to do is flip that paper over and we'll know," Ryan attempted to sway his wife, "and you know that it would be a lot easier to prepare for the baby if we knew what we were having. We could pick a name…."

"Decorate the nursery," Marissa added smiling at the idea. They were sitting together in her ob-gyn's office. It was her fifth appointment, and, being six months pregnant, the doctor had been able to determine the sex of their unborn child. Leaving Ryan and Marissa to debate whether or not they wanted to know, she had left them in the exam room to attend to another patient. The second sonogram picture of their baby was resting securely in Marissa's purse to be framed and displayed proudly in their house, they had gotten the news that both Marissa and their son or daughter were healthy, and she was dressed and ready to leave. Although Ryan was positive he wanted to know, she was slightly unsure.

"We might not get to do this again though," Marissa pointed out. Taking her husband's hand and placing it on her stomach, the feeling of their child moving around inside of her put content smiles on both of their faces. "This baby is a miracle, one that I think we had both pretty much given up hope on ever being blessed with, so it very well could be our only chance of being surprised, of having that experience of hearing the doctor announce for the first time that we have a little boy or a little girl. I just….if we do this, if we look at that paper to see what we're having, I want to be sure, beyond a doubt positive that we're doing what we want."

Locking her gaze with Ryan's, Marissa watched him intently as he studied her face. She could tell that he was deep in thought, and the smirk on his already over-confident countenance along with the mischievous glimmer in his eye made her realize that he was probably up to something no good.

"I'll tell you what," Ryan offered, "I have two suggestions for you. One, you can leave, and I'll look at the paper myself, promising that I won't reveal the baby's sex to you."

"But that will never work," Marissa argued with him. "We both know I'll never be able to handle the idea of you knowing while I don't. I'll badger you and drive you crazy even if I say I don't want to know until the point where you cave and tell me in order to shut me up."

"Or," he continued as if she hadn't said anything, "our second option would be that you concede and look with me in exchange for," he continued, holding up a placating hand, "me taking you furniture shopping today. You can get whatever you want, the sky's the limit. I'll even swear to not harass you into hurrying up, and I'll put it together as soon as we get home."

"Alright fine," Marissa agreed, unable to stop herself from clasping her hands together anxiously and bouncing in her seat, "but you have to look first and then tell me. I can't do it." Squeezing her eyes shut so she didn't even see Ryan looking, she waited and waited until the point where she had to peak at him to find her husband merely watching her, an amused and impish smirk on his face. "Ryan," she squealed in protest, "I can't wait any longer! What is it? Pink or blue, cheerleader or football player, Daddy's Little Princess or his best budby?"

Shaking his head to tease her some more, he finally replied, "I would say pink, but you know how much I hate that color. What about a compromise? Maybe we could go with…."

But his words were cut off as Marissa launched herself into his arms, her lips eagerly seeking his as she placed light, quick, tender kisses over his mouth while her long legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Talking in a hurry between embraces, she exclaimed, "we're having a little girl, our very own blonde haired, blue eyed angel baby who is going to have her Daddy wrapped around her finger and a firm grasp on her Mommy's credit card! She's going to wear the cutest dresses and I'm going to fix her hair special for her everyday, while you'll hang up her masterpieces at work, displaying our daughter's artistic ability, and you'll teach her how to brood and pout until she gets her way."

"Hey," Ryan interrupted his wife's delighted ramblings, "I do not pout!"

Giggling at his response, she taunted him. "Right…and I don't hog the bathrooms in the morning or steal all the blankets at night when I get cold or have a bad habit of misplacing my keys in the most obvious of places."

"Yeah, like in the ignition," Ryan returned her sarcastic comments with one of his own, rolling his eyes in the process.

Pulling back from him as far as she could because he was still holding her securely in his arms, she complained, "That is not fair," poking him playfully in the chest the whole time. "You have to be nice to me."

"Oh really," Ryan mocked, "and why's that?"

"Because, not only am I carrying our daughter which automatically gives me the right to win every argument good-natured or not, but I could make your life a living hell, buddy. Don't forget what you promised to do with me this afternoon."

Nuzzling into her neck, Ryan sucked on her sensitive skin before replying, his voice deep and husky. "What, take you home and have my way with you for the rest of the day and night?"

"Not unless you want to go furniture shopping online, and you know how picky I am. We'll probably have to exchange things at least several times, and, then, what if the baby's room isn't finished on time? Not only will you be on 4 am feeding duties but you'll be finishing the nursery in between changing diapers, grocery runs, and folding laundry."

Sighing, he muttered, "so not what I had in mind."

Ignoring him, Marissa ordered, "come on, let's go. You know," her tone became playful, "the sooner we're done the sooner we can go home to celebrate."

Without another word, Ryan started out the door, his wife still firmly held in his arms. Despite her appeals for him to put her down, he merely grabbed her purse as they walked by the exam table and left, refusing to release her. As they left the doctor's office together, her peals of laughter making the nurses and receptions smile pleasantly, they were the picture of the perfect couple.

-+-

"Switch," Marissa ordered as she rolled her swollen and curvaceous six months pregnant body onto her back, expecting her husband to do the same. Between spending an hour in the baby clothes department and browsing for another half an hour at maternity wear, she had gotten sidetracked on their quest for furniture, once again, by wanting to try out new mattresses. Despite Ryan's insistence that nothing was wrong with their bed, that her back hurt from the extra weight and awkwardness of her pregnancy, she was convinced they should at least test other mattresses to make sure he wasn't wrong. Satisfied with the comparison on her back, she told him to switch again so they could try out the display bed on their left sides, but, catching her off guard, Ryan rolled the wrong way, and, suddenly, their faces were extremely close, their noses grazing tenderly. Immediately, her breathing increased, and she scooted her body into his, running her right hand up along his body to rest on his face.

"See," Ryan told her with a taunting smirk, "this mattress is no different from our own. Can we go look at baby furniture now?"

"Not yet," her voice dropped to a low whisper, the seductive quality to it immediately intriguing and arousing her husband. "I have other things in mind right now besides shopping."

"Yeah," his breathing increased as her leg came up to rub suggestively against him, "I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

Peering up at him pleadingly, she returned, "but I thought you were a bad boy. Come on," she tried to coax him, "don't you want to be a little naughty? It's been a while…."

"Try since this morning," Ryan laughed. After a dry period in their sex life during the first eight weeks of Marissa's second trimester where she preferred just cuddling instead of making love, she was suddenly extremely demonstrative with her love, and, when she suddenly felt a craving to be with her husband, she did not like to wait to be satisfied. "We can't do anything here," he continued, attempting to push her wandering hand away and failing miserably when he simply gave up, the feelings she was invoking in his body too pleasant for him to even want to ignore, "so it's up to you. Do you want to go home right now, or do you want to postpone this until later and find the baby's furniture like I promised."

"What I want," she told him bluntly, her body sliding down his to allow her lips access to his neck and chest, "is for you to come up with a better option."

As her hand slid underneath his shirt, one of them tickling its way up his chest while the other's fingers dipped inside of his pants, Ryan sucked in his breath quickly. Realizing he wanted his wife as badly as she wanted him, he forced the cloud of lust away from his mind as he attempted to formulate a plan. Pulling away from her quickly only to elicit a moan of complaint from Marissa's abruptly abandoned lips, he took her hand in his and led her to the back of the store. "I have a plan," he confided to her in a deep, husky voice. "Follow me."

Five minutes later they were locked in a rarely used handicapped changing room, their hands working frantically to tear each others clothing off. "We have to be quiet," he warned her while pushing her maternity dress carelessly up her body and pulling down her panties. "That means no screaming."

"Then keep my mouth occupied," she ordered him. Fumbling with his belt, she finally managed to open it enough to unbutton his pants and push them down far enough to free him from their restrictive constraints. Ready for him, she supported her weight with her hands behind her on the dressing room's bench, reclining her body so he could move as deeply inside of her as possible. Their actions screamed of hysteria and desperation as if they were possessed with their desire for each other. Never had they ever been so reckless, so carefree, so abandoned before when intimate, and it was oddly freeing and definitely satisfying. It did not take long before Ryan's furious thrusts drove them both over the edge into rapture, and they were both left satiated and completely fulfilled.

Bending over uncomfortably, Marissa pulled her panties back on and let her dress fall back into place. Walking towards the door of the changing room, her back towards her still recuperating husband, she breezily called out for him. "I'll meet you out in the store in a few minutes. I think I noticed an adorable miniature tea table and set of matching chairs for the nursery on our way back here."

Before Ryan could respond, she was gone, leaving him to redress without her. Chuckling to himself as he made his way to find Marissa, he realized he had been used for sex, and it just made her even more adorable in his eyes. At six months pregnant, he had never been more in love or more attracted to his wife of ten years, and the thought that she was carrying their child inside of her only made him fall even deeper in love with her every second of every day. The only thing that would make their lives better was meeting their daughter, and they only had three more months to wait.

-+-

They had just finished up with their final Lamaze class, and, while Marissa was chatting with one of the other mothers in their group, Ryan had put their mat back for them. Finally, she was finished and ready to leave, but her husband was nowhere in sight. Rounding the corner of the studio, she found him talking to another soon-to-be father by the snack table. Of course he would be there. Before she could make her presence known though, they guys' conversation caught her attention.

"Man, am I glad this is our one and only child" the other guy remarked to Ryan, his name Marissa thought was either Mark….or Mike….or maybe even Spike. Hell, who was she kidding, she had no idea what the guy was, and she really didn't care. "Don't get me wrong, I love my wife, but I couldn't go through another pregnancy without requesting a temporary separation….just until she gave birth and calmed down a little bit. But you have to know what I mean?"

"No, not really," Ryan responded quickly, not even having to think about his answer.

Shocked, the stranger questioned him, "really? What about the mood swings, the cravings, the sleepless nights, the lack of sex, the constant complaining, the weird body side effects?"

"Oh trust me," Ryan laughed, reassuring the man he was talking to, "Marissa, she's had her fair share of mood swings," she felt herself bristling at his words only to immediately calm down as he continued, "but most of the time I thought they were cute. If you think about everything they have to do to bring the baby into this world, what do a few tears or hormonal fights really matter in the grand scheme of things? The cravings didn't bother me; I just ate what she wanted, too, though I have put on some sympathy weight." Marissa had to giggle at that comment…and made a mental note to remember it in order to tease him. Frankly, she had no idea what he was talking about. To her, he was perfect and hot as hell. "The only time we had sleepless nights, well, let's just say that lack of sex was really not a problem. She never complained about being pregnant, even when she was sick or tired or sore, because we've wanted this for so long. As for her body changing, I've loved that part; it's been fun," Ryan gushed, his face lighting up like a little boy's on Christmas. Her body is amazing, suddenly curvier in a sexy, nurturing, maternal way, and her breasts….they were never small before, but now I just can't stop playing with them. We're like teenagers again, can't keep our hands off of each other. She'd probably kill me if she heard me say this, but I'd be in heaven if she was pregnant all the time."

Marissa watched as Ryan snapped out of his fantasies about her and refocused his attention upon the guy standing in front of him, a man he'd never talked to until five minutes before. Looking between the two men, she noticed that her husband looked slightly horrified about how much he had confessed to a stranger, while the other father-to-be simply watched him with a look of bewilderment and jealousy written plainly across his face. Figuring she would save her husband, Marissa moved to his side; after all, he had definitely just earned himself more than a rescue from an awkward situation, and, the sooner she got him home, the sooner he could be rewarded.

"Hey Baby," she greeted him, placing a delicate, lingering kiss on his cheek. "Are you ready to go?"

"Whenever you are," Ryan responded, turning to wrap her loosely in his arms and dropping a light kiss on her nose. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Actually," she replied, glancing up at him seductively. There was no reason she couldn't have her own fun torturing the whining class member as well. "I thought maybe we could skip dinner and just go home for dessert. Suddenly, I'm in the mood for something besides food."

Although she was eight and half months pregnant and making love was no longer an option for them, it didn't mean Ryan and Marissa couldn't satisfy each other in other, slightly more creative ways. As they wrapped their arms around each other, the blissfully happy couple walked out of the studio together totally consumed with one another. Everything else in the world besides their marriage, their attraction, and their unborn daughter faded into the background as their little family went home.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Laying in bed, the covers thrown off of her exceedingly warm body, a nine months pregnant Marissa listened to her husband's movements as he came home. It was mid-September and her due date was quickly approaching making her not only slightly uncomfortable and anxious but also irritable and exasperated, placing her in a paradox. She knew Ryan so well; she could tell exactly what he was doing. After opening the front door, he had immediately moved to the kitchen to put the frozen breakfast pastries away that she had been craving before retreating back to the foyer and taking the stairs two at a time to join her. While nothing made her more at peace than to be with him, she knew he would be faintly perturbed with her, because she wasn't ready. They were to attend a party that night celebrating his boss' 35th wedding anniversary, and nothing sounded less appealing to Marissa. Not only did she just want to stay in her pajamas all night cuddling in bed with her husband, but the idea of putting on a fake smile and pretending to have a good time while with people she either didn't know that well or didn't want to know was even less appealing than the shoes she was expected to wear. Breaking into her thoughts, Ryan came quickly through the door, talking rapidly.

"While I was out," he informed her, moving without looking to the empty bathroom, "I went ahead and gassed up your car for you so that, if you want to go out next week when I'm at work, you won't have to worry about it, and I also picked up a few more things at the store just in case your cravings change." Moving to brush his teeth, he spoke in between the movements of his toothbrush. "I don't think this thing should last that long tonight, so I thought maybe we could pick up a couple of movies on our way home. What do you think?" When she didn't respond and instead merely listened to his actions as he put his toothbrush away and turned off the water before coming back into their room, she knew his curiosity would be peaked, and he would come seek her out. She smiled sheepishly at him when his mouth fell open in shock and surprise at finding her still in bed, her hair and makeup finished while her dress sat tossed aside unceremoniously on the floor. "What are you doing," he asked, slightly concerned and coming to her side to take a seat on the edge of the bed. "Are you feeling okay?"

"In relative to the discomfort I'm supposed to feel when I'm carrying around an extra thirty pounds, then, yeah, I guess I'm fine." With a furrowed brow, he silently pressed her to continue. "I just….Ryan, I don't want to go tonight."

"But we already said we'd be there," he argued, dismissing her wishes. "We RSVP'd weeks ago. It would be rude to not show up."

"Yeah, and weeks ago I didn't feel like a blimp on stilts," she countered, struggling to stand up and only succeeding to when he helped her. "If I go tonight, I'm going to be miserable, uncomfortable, and probably bitchy, because I don't want to be there. I'll ruin your night and any one else's who comes within a five mile radius of me or glances at me like the circus freak I look like."

Holding his hands out helplessly, he asked her, "what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to go to this party without me, to give my regrets to your boss and his wife but explain to them that my current condition limits my activities, and to just let me stay home where I can be as comfortable as I can right now."

"But you know I don't like leaving you by yourself," he reasoned, standing up from the bed and moving to take her robe clad body into his arms. "What if something happens when I'm gone; what if you go into labor when I'm not here?"

"Then I'll call your cell, tell you it's time, and either wait for you or call an ambulance according to how close together my contractions are." Smiling at him dotingly, she teased, "it's not like we live out in the middle of nowhere with only the local midwife available to help me give birth. We live in a major city, and there is a reputable hospital not even ten minutes away. You don't have to worry about us," she told Ryan sweetly, pulling his hands tighter around her so that they rested on her swollen abdomen, "baby and I will be fine."

Before responding, he leaned down and lightly kissed her lips. Sighing in defeat, he started to relent. "I know, I know, I worry too much, but I just don't like the idea of leaving you alone."

However Marissa's temperament was not as forgiving. Backing away from him, she yelled out exasperatedly, "don't you get it, Ryan? I'd rather be home alone than at that stupid party with you!"

Immediately, he shut down, moving away from her towards their closet where he grabbed his tux jacket and slipped it on. Ready to leave, he picked up his keys and wallet off the counter in the bathroom and made his way towards the door of their bedroom to leave. "Well, if that's how you feel," he spoke in a low tone avoiding her, "then I won't bother you any longer."

Crushed and upset for she had never wanted to hurt him, Marissa picked up her previously discarded dress and slipped it on before sliding her feet in her shoes and running after her husband as quickly as her expecting body would allow her. She had hoped that being obstinate and demanding to stay home would make him realize he didn't want to go either so they could remain there together. Instead, her plan had backfired, and, not only was he still going to the party, but he had misinterpreted her words and thought that she didn't want to be with him. Desperate to do whatever it took to make him believe otherwise, she ignored her own feelings and wishes and chased after him ready to stay by his side the entire night if she had to.

"Wait," she called out at Ryan's figure as he went to walk out their front door, her feet hurrying down the stairs. "Wait, I'm coming. I've changed my mind."

Turning around, he ran to her. "Slow down," he ordered, taking her arm in his as soon as he reached her. "We do not need you falling down the stairs." When she looked at him with apologetic tears in her eyes, he continued in a teasing tone. "It would be too cliché of you. At least do something original like slipping on the kitchen floor after your water breaks or tripping in the driveway on your own shoelaces because you couldn't bend down far enough to tie them." Although she laughed, the mirth made her tears fall and the humor she felt was quickly replaced with an expression of her regret and despondency. "Hey," he playfully chastised her, "that was supposed to make you happy again not sad."

"I know," Marissa hiccupped, "but I'm just so sorry. I didn't mean what I said…at least not the way it sounded." They had reached the bottom of the stairs and stood in each others arms, her hands caressing his smooth face as she stared convincingly into his eyes to prove the honestly of her words. "You, I always want to be with you. It's just that I could take or leave everyone else."

"Oh, honey," Ryan hugged her tightly, "it's okay. I know that you didn't mean to hurt me. You just don't feel well, do you?" To answer him, she shook her head no while he wiped her tears away. "I shouldn't have insisted that we go to this party in the first place, and if you'd really rather stay at home, then I'll carry you upstairs myself this instant."

"No," she reassured him, "you're right. We do need to go. Besides, if you carried me upstairs, you'd probably fall and break your back, and then we'd both be screwed."

"Or rather not screwed for a really long time," he corrected her, making her finally smile. Leaning his forehead against her own, he whispered, "I sorry, too, for overreacting. Chalk it up to my sympathetic pregnancy hormones." That produced the light, infectious giggle he had wanted to hear from her, and he grinned in response. "Come on," Ryan suggested, pulling her gently towards their front door, "the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave, come home, and eat those toaster strudels you wanted so much."

"On second thought," Marissa began trying to get away from him to run to the kitchen, "maybe I should have one before we leave."

"Nope, I don't think so," Ryan disagreed with her, maneuvering them outside and locking the door behind them. "I know you. One will turn into two which will turn into the whole box, you'll end up accidentally getting something on your dress, and then it'll take us another hour for you to pick out another one."

"Ryan, I'm not that bad!"

"You're right," he agreed with her as he shut her door for her after she had sat down in the car, "you're worse." Safely out of her reach on the outside of the glass, he continued. "It would take you two hours."

Watching him round the car to get to the driver's side, her muted arguments making him laugh, she knew it was definitely not going to be a dull evening.

-+-

Ryan's boss' wife was a very complicated, vain, and in Marissa's opinion, pretentious woman, and she demanded no less than every person being lucky enough to get an invite to her anniversary party to stand up on a specially designed stage and give an admiring speech to her…and, if they felt so inclined, her husband as well. She had a party coordinator organize prearranged groups to periodically stand up from their seats and make their way to the stage where they had to wait until it was their turn to address her. Although she had been lucky enough to be excluded because of her condition, Ryan hadn't, and, as dinner flowed slowly to a conclusion and dessert was passed out, he was the last in line of his set, waiting while fidgeting for his turn.

As time passed on and Marissa was forced to sit in the company of the woman she so astutely held in disdain, her incessant giggling and fawning frustrating her beyond previous experience, while her husband was away from her side, she felt her irritation turn to contempt and her contempt turn to distress and soreness. Dismissing it as a symptom of her pregnancy and assuming she had eaten too much, she just wished for the speeches to end, for Ryan to return to her, and for them to leave, but she should have known better than to hope on an evening where nothing had gone well. Her discomfort only increased as the night wore on, and she was too stubborn and decorous to interrupt and call out for her husband. So, it was in that fashion that the party continued for Marissa, and it did not occur to her that she was in labor until her water broke, a scream of slight fright and disbelief escaping her tightly clenched lips. At the sound of her cry, everyone turned to glance at her with varying degrees of curiosity on their countenances, while Ryan literally ran to her side, jumping off the stage and shoving anyone in his immediate path to his wife out of his way.

"Hey, what's wrong," Ryan inquired, kneeling down beside her chair. "Is it the baby?"

"I'm in labor," she answered joyously. "My water just broke." While tears of pain streamed down her face, a smile of pure excitement and exhilaration lit up her face. However, Ryan just gazed up at her in confusion.

"But….that's impossible," he stumbled over his words. It was as if his mind could not wrap itself around the idea. They had been waiting for the moment to arrive for so long, much longer than her nine month pregnancy, that the fact that it had arrived, that they were going to meet their daughter in mere hours was not only terrifying and thrilling at the same time but also unbelievable. "You're not due for another week. It must be something else," he reasoned. Neither Ryan nor Marissa heard the soft sounds of laughter around them as the other guests looked on in amusement at the young, expecting couple.

"Ryan," Marissa instructed him, pulling his hand to her lap, "feel my dress."

"It's wet," he said incredulously, his shock written plainly across his face. She rolled her eyes and then continued to try and convince him of the truth of her being in labor.

"And my stomach," she pressed his hand to it, smiling when a look of wonder and recognition came across his face.

"It's really hard." Looking up at her, he whispered, "oh my god, you really are in labor." Searching around the room for help, he yelled, "can someone go and get our car for us. Here," he tossed his keys randomly to someone standing behind him. "Thanks." Turning his attention back to his wife, he asked, "what do you need me to do?"

Teasing him, "she replied, "I need you to calm down."

"Wait," he realized, becoming unsure again, "why aren't you screaming in pain, cursing me for getting you pregnant, and breaking my hand?"

"Don't worry," Marissa reassured him with a chuckle, "that'll come later. Right now the contractions aren't that bad."

"Right, contractions," Ryan repeated, shaking his head in understanding. "I'm supposed to ask you a question when you start having those, all the books said so, but I can't remember what it is."

"They're still quite far apart," she answered without him ever realizing the question. "I'd say they're probably twelve minutes apart, so we have plenty of time."

Regaining some of his composure, he asked, "when did you start having them?"

"Well, I'm not sure," she revealed, reaching for his hand as she felt another wave of pain coursing through her body. Breathing through it, she waited for it to pass before replying. "I didn't realize they were contractions until my water broke, but I haven't been feeling well all evening."

"But we've been here for almost four hours already," Ryan screeched in a panic once again. "You've been in labor that long?" Searching around the room again, he began to yell. "Where is my car? What's taking the person who's getting it so damn long?"

"Ryan, what did I tell you," Marissa coached him evenly. "You have to calm down, remember? There will be plenty of time later for you to overreact and lose control, but right now I need you to reassure me, keep me together."

"I can do that."

"Good," she laughed at his response and the fact he was still nodding his head in a positive manner as if to silently reassure himself. As word came that their car was ready, Ryan picked her up and carried her outside, ignoring her reassurances that she could walk with his help and her qualms that she would ruin his good tux. Settling into the passenger seat, Marissa realized that she had been right. Their evening had not been dull, and the day afterwards was going to be even more eventful. She couldn't wait.

-+-

"This cannot be happening," Marissa complained in a huff of annoyance, collapsing back onto her hospital bed after a particularly painful contraction. "I thought the whole point of finding out the sex of the baby was to make sure we were ready for her. How can it be so hard to pick a name?"

It was now seven in the morning, and seeing as how they had left the party at nine the night before, that meant Marissa had been in labor for fourteen hours already, and, as she was only dilated six centimeters, her tiring agony was not even close to being over. After all, she still had the most painful portion to go through: natural childbirth. Ryan was tired, she was mentally and physically exhausted, and the chipper morning nurses who had just switched shifts only served to increase their irritation. In fact, at the very moment, there was a young, twenty-something nurse attending to Marissa, checking her vitals, actually deigning to hum softly to herself while her patient struggled with labor. The thought of taking her clipboard and hitting her with it repeatedly was the only thing giving Marissa any comfort or pleasure at all. Breaking her from her torturous fantasies, Ryan answered her question.

"We can't just pick any name," he argued. He was slightly more capable of thinking rationally at that point than his wife. "What if we choose something that will become popular and our daughter will be forced to attend school with ten other little girls with her name? Plus, we don't want to pick something that we'll end up hating five years down the road. Once we pick a name and announce it, that's it, everything is final, and we have to live with our decision. I don't know about you, but, for me, that's not something I can decide on lightly."

"Ryan, we've had months to think about this though, not to mention the fact that it's the only thing we've talked about since I got situated in this room," Marissa pointed out quickly before another contraction overcame her body. Waiting and screaming through it, she only continued when her breathing began to level out. "Let's just pick one already!"

"Fine," he relented, "what are we narrowed down to?" As their conversation started, neither of them noticed the nurse slip out of the room.

"Well, there's Carmen," Marissa started only to have Ryan interrupt her.

"No," he immediately refuted the name. "I refuse to name my daughter after a famous prostitute."

"How YOU ever became familiar with an opera, I'll never know," Marissa bit out sarcastically, annoyed with her husband. "Fine though, we won't name her Carmen. The next name we have is Holden, but I don't like it."

"Of course you don't, because it's one of the names I like."

"Yeah, and it' also a guy's name," Marissa argued with her husband. "You're familiar with foreign operas, but domestic soap operas are utterly alien to you. We're not naming our daughter after Lily's on again off again husband. Do you have any idea how much I despise her character?"

"What are you talking about, Marissa?"

"As the World Turns," she answered him as if he should already know her response. "Ugh, you are so pop culture deficient." She watched him roll his eyes at her sarcastic remark before she continued. "What about McKenna?"

Quickly, he replied, "it sounds like something you would name a dog."

"It does not!"

"Moving on," Ryan dismissed, urging her to name the fourth name on their list. "What else do you have?"

"Esme," Marissa suggested, smiling at the name, while Ryan merely thought about it for a moment while helping her through another contraction. When she was finished, he spoke.

"It sounds French."

"That's because it is, genius," she jeered, suddenly knowing he would have a reason to dislike it as well.

"But we're not French," her husband pointed out, "so why should our daughter have a French name. People will probably just mispronounce it all the time anyway. Plus, wouldn't it need an accent? Have fun teaching that to a four year old when they have to learn how to write their name."

"Ryan, this is pointless. We're never going to agree."

"What's the last one," he asked, ignoring her exclamation.

"Keaton."

Musing thoughtfully, he responded, "like as in Diane Keaton, the woman you always get annoyed with because she wears suits with gloves to all the award shows?"

"Yes, as in Diane Keaton," she yelled, her eyes flashing with annoyance, "but, no, we wouldn't be naming our daughter after her, because I don't care about her clothes and I don't care about her. I just like the damn name!"

"Let's think of another five names," Ryan suggested only to have her groan in complaint.

"It doesn't matter how many names we come up with and discuss, we're never going to agree," Marissa realized, flopping back down in frustration. "Listen," she ordered him, "I'm feeling another contraction coming on, so can we just agree on disagreeing. We can name her 'The Girl Whose Parents Could Not Choose a Name in a Timely Manner." It'll be unique, and I guarantee you no other kid in her school will have it."

While she screamed and cursed through another contraction, Ryan chuckled at her comment, only inciting her frustration to grow to an even higher level. Finished with the labor pain, she turned to him, a pleading look in her eye. "Just pick something, please. I don't care what it is. I just want to know that before I go into that delivery room, we have a name ready for our daughter. Can you do that for me?"

"I can," he reassured her, bending down to place a gentle kiss on her sweaty brow. "While I think though, why don't you rest, okay? No more talking while I think." Exhausted, Marissa merely shook her head in agreement.

Obediently, her eyes closed, and she sighed during a short moment's contentment, her body free of a contraction and her mind at peace. Despite everything she said and did, she found Ryan's failure to agree to a name endearing and even comical; she just couldn't show it after more than fourteen hours of labor with still no end in sight. After only a minute or so, she suddenly sat up agitatedly, calling out for her husband.

"Ryan," she shrieked. Her voice was panic stricken as she reached with both hands for him.

"Marissa, come on," he complained good naturedly, "you've got to give me more time than that to pick a name. I'm not ready yet."

"No, you don't understand," she started crying, unable to control her emotions. "I need you to get me a nurse."

"A nurse," he replied dumbly, "but you don't like them."

"But I need them," she begged, even going so far as to attempt to get out of bed herself. When he pushed her back down to lie still, she looked up at him with desperate eyes. "Something's wrong; something's wrong with the baby. I can't feel her."

"I'm sure she's just resting. It's been a very hectic night for her."

She shook her head negatively. "It's not that. We've been so wrapped up in arguing about a name, that I haven't been paying attention, but it's been minutes since I felt her move."

"But that's normal," he dismissed her concerns, smiling at her comfortingly. "She's probably napping, needing her beauty sleep just like her Mom."

"No, Ryan! Something's wrong, I know it!"

She was hysterical, on the verge of completely losing control as Ryan realized she wasn't merely overreacting. Suddenly terrified himself, he left her side to run to the entrance of the room, throwing the door open to yell desperately down the hallway. "We need someone in here," he demanded, not caring about the other patients, "a nurse or, even better, a doctor. Something's wrong with our baby!"

Immediately, several staff members came racing towards the room, and he went back to Marissa's side. As she laid there sobbing to herself, she heard Ryan frantically direct them, telling them that she hadn't felt the baby move in quite a while, that she knew something was wrong. Just as he had tried to do for her, they attempted to reassure him that everything was alright, but he lost control, kicking them all out of the room, and ordering the doctor be sent. The doctor was there within seconds after Ryan's outburst, her presence exuding confident and reassurance.

"Marissa," she tried to comfort the expecting mother as she entered the hospital room, "I promise you that your daughter is perfectly healthy, but," she continued when Ryan went to interrupt her, "if it will make you feel better, why don't we do a quick ultrasound to check on her, and, while I'm here, I'll go ahead and see how you're progressing as well."

"Yes, thank you," Ryan agreed with her idea, going to Marissa's side, once again, and taking her hands in his. He needed to feel her close to him and knew she felt the same way; they needed each other in that moment.

After repositioning her in the bed so the doctor could pull up her gown to expose her stomach, the gel was applied and the sonogram machine turned on. "Now, first," the doctor instructed, "I'm going to find the heartbeat for you and then we'll look at your little girl to see how she's positioned." So they waited and waited and waited, several minutes, but still no heart beat could be detected. "It's just taking me a little longer than normal to find it," the doctor reassured them, "but that's because she's in an awkward position. I'm sure it'll be just a little bit longer…."

Her voice trailed off; her face turned pale. Without a word to Ryan or Marissa, she turned the machine off and pressed the on-call button, immediately moving the sonogram equipment out of her way.

"What….what's going on," Marissa questioned, panicking again. "What's wrong with my baby?"

As several nurses ran into the room, the doctor turned to them and ordered, "get Mrs. Atwood prepped for an emergency cesarean," ignoring her patient's questions. "I can't find a heartbeat, and the cord is wrapped around the baby's neck several times. We need to move immediately."

She heard a broken sob escape from her husband's otherwise silent countenance before she slipped into a state of semi-consciousness where everything around her was seen but nothing made sense. Marissa watched as the doctor prepared for surgery, as she insisted that they didn't have time to move her into an OR, as Ryan stood by her side holding her hand tightly the entire time, attempting to whisper words of encouragement and support into her ear while his own world was falling apart around him, as the medical team encircled her body, as the scalpel cut into her abdomen, as the world moved past at an unconventionally hasty speed when all she wanted to do was rewind it to a time where it was perfect in its chaos and confusion. Now, everything made too much sense when all she craved was blind ignorance. Not a sound invaded her sanity, not the doctor's instructions, the nurses' questions, or Ryan's promises. Instead, she kept her mind silent as she waited for the only sound which could make her whole again: the sound a newborn baby's wails, a sound she was never to hear.

Instead she saw a perfect, whole, precious baby pulled from her womb, the only thing wrong with the little girl was the fact that her soft skin was blue and not a creamy white. Her eyes were open, eyes so much like her Daddy's, while a petite nose, plump lips, chubby cheeks, and wisps of blonde hair on the top of her small, petite head completed her beautiful face. She had two plump legs with two small feet, five little toes gracing each one, and two plump arms with two diminutive hands, her ten thin, tiny fingers clenched into desperate fists. Their little girl had struggled, fought, begged for her life; she had wanted to meet them as much as they had wanted to meet her.

She knew the doctor was apologizing to them, offering her condolences while the nurses wrapped the dead little girl in a pink blanket, but Marissa couldn't hear her. She knew that rivers of tears were flowing down her pale, lifeless cheeks as they were urged to name their daughter despite the fact that they would never be able to call her to them with that name, but she didn't feel the wetness. She knew that Ryan had collapsed down onto the floor beside her as the staff silently exited the room, the doctor the first to leave, as the nurses sewed up her incision and cleaned her body, but she didn't miss his presence holding her hand. The only thing she could see, touch, feel, smell, or taste was her grief and pain.

Before she knew what was happening, she saw a nurse move to take their baby from the room, and, suddenly, Marissa could not silently remain drowning in her heartache. "No," she screamed out resolutely. "You can't take her; you can't take my daughter from me yet." When the nurse went to argue with her, she continued. "She needs to feel her Mommy and Daddy holding her. She needs to feel how much we wanted her, how much we loved her, how much we needed her, too. Please," she begged, her outstretched arms shaking with desperation, "let me embrace my baby girl just once, please?"

Relenting, the nurse, crying softly herself after listening to her patient's inconsolable, grief-stricken words, brought their deceased daughter over to Marissa's side. Taking her baby into her arms, a hopeless sob of misery escaped her tightly clenched, trembling lips. "Take as much time as you need," the nurse spoke softly. "If you need anything, anything at all, just press the call button, and I'll be here as quickly as I can." With that, she hurried out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

"Ryan," Marissa called out frantically, her free hand seeking him blindly as she couldn't tear her eyes from their daughter. She didn't have to ask for him twice. Standing up, he moved to lay down in her bed beside her as she carefully shifted positions to share the small space with him. As his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his body to hold her as closely as possible, his face leaning against hers as they both distraughtly searched for some form of comfort from each other, she felt the salt from his tears mix with her own. Bringing their daughter against their chests tightly, Marissa cradled her as protectively as she could, bending her head down to kiss the lips of the child, their child, that they would never know.

"Mommy and Daddy love you," she whispered brokenly to the little girl in her arms. "We love you so much."

It was all she could say. Dissolving into inconsolable sobs of pain, she collapsed back into Ryan's arms still holding their baby closely. As the world went on around them, life continuing as if nothing had changed, the three of them, their family, Ryan, Marissa, and their deceased daughter, were stuck in a moment, 7:24 to be exact, the moment when their girl had been born and the same moment where she had been pronounced dead. From that moment on, nothing for either Ryan or Marissa would ever be the same.

_A/N: I know that everyone hates me right now, but, please, be patient. Always remember that I have a grand scheme for every story. Granted, this is unfair, something Ryan and Marissa after everything they've been through do not deserve, but just trust in me. We're only have way through the story. There is so much more that will happen. Thanks!_

Charlynn


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

It had been three days, 72 hours, 4,320 minutes, 259,200 seconds and counting since they had lost their little girl, a daughter they had yet to name, and Ryan felt as if he was going out of his mind. He hadn't slept, he hadn't eaten, he hadn't even been able to fully grasp the idea that there wasn't going to be a baby for them to love and cherish and raise together as they got older. In the brief moments where Marissa would be lost in a medication induced, agitated rest and he would be able to let his heavy, red rimmed, swollen eye lids droop shut, images would flash through his mind, images of his smiling, happy wife as she cradled her swollen abdomen and giggled at the feeling of their daughter kicking her, images of the night they had probably conceived their miracle child, images of Marissa's sweaty brow while she talked to him through her labor, images that made him feel as if their baby girl was still alive and just waiting to meet them. His hope would be crushed by a sudden realization that nothing was right in their world and pictures of their daughter's lifeless, blue, vulnerable body would haunt him until he opened his eyes to focus instead on his haunted and despondent wife. As long as he focused upon Marissa, he was able to breathe again; he was capable of surviving for the thought of the love he felt for her was enough to make him crave life.

Stopping mid-stride, he quit his pacing and turned to look at the depressed woman laying in his bed, a woman whose heart was breaking and he had no idea how to help her. Slowly, so as not to disturb her, he moved to her side and sat down, climbing under the covers and taking her tossing and turning body into his arms to hold her tight. He needed to feel her close to him, because, through possibly giving her a sense of comfort, he was able to start his own grieving process. Subconsciously, Marissa's hands took hold of his, and, just as she would when she was still pregnant, she placed them on her now baby-less stomach. The feeling of its emptiness made Ryan have to choke back a sob, a lone tear, unstoppable, escaping the tightly shut confines of his weary eyes. Putting aside his pain, he tried to focus on a memory that would bring him hope for the future, a memory untainted by the ache of not being able to conceive and the anguish of losing a child.

_Despite the fact that alphabetically they were only separated by one letter of the alphabet, Atwood and Cooper were divided by row after row of other graduating college seniors that afternoon, and Ryan did not like the feeling. This was perhaps the most important day of their lives so far, and he wanted to share every moment of it with her, his long time girlfriend, the woman he had loved more than any other person in this world and would love forever, the person who had made sure he had succeeded and got to that point in his life. As his yearning to have her by his side continued, he smiled as he watched her sitting across the aisle and several paces away in the large, indoor auditorium. The long speeches seemed to drone on, the supposedly wise words of the guest speaker boring the graduates to sleep, and, as he saw her head bob down to gently let her chin rest against her chest, he knew she had fallen asleep. His low, amused chuckle sent several glares in his direction, but nothing would stop him from looking at her._

_Perhaps, he had thought to himself, if I stare at her long enough, she'll get a feeling of being watched and will turn around. So, that's what he did through the rest of the guest speaker's address, the President of the University's message, and the Dean of Students' discourse. Finally, as the very first name was called and the unknown person made their long trek to the stage for the students were sitting in descending order, he noticed her head snap to attention, a shy hand going to wipe the signs of her slumber off her gorgeous face. Her hand was still subtly rubbing her left eye when she stopped in mid-motion and slowly turned around in her seat to instantly lock stares with him. Blue on blue, he had become transfixed in her gaze, smiles quickly spreading across both of their faces. _

'_You know,' his mind had, from out of nowhere, suggested to him, 'if her name was Atwood, too, you'd never have to sit away from her again. She would always be at your side.' And so, just like that, he had mouthed four words that had changed their lives forever: Will you marry me? Across a packed auditorium, with absolutely no prior thought or planning, he, Ryan Atwood, had proposed to the only girl, only woman he had ever really wanted and needed in his life, but the thing that surprised him the most was that Marissa Cooper, without a moment's hesitation, had mouthed back to him a word he would be thankful for until his dying day: yes. _

_The rest of the ceremony went by in a blur. His name was called to the stage, and as he walked across the expanse of the wooden structure, the only thought that kept running through his mind was that he was HER fiancé. Returning to his seat, he waited and watched her as she kept glancing back at him, the biggest, most beautiful smile on her face he had ever seen until her own name was called. That was his fiancé that gracefully made her way through the graduating procession, his fiancé whose eyes were sparkling like sapphires as she searched the crowd for his face instead of focusing on those presenting her the diploma she had worked so hard for or the family who had been by her side far longer than he had, his fiancé who snuck past the aisle that would take her back to her own seat and came to sit discretely on his lap instead. _

_They had done nothing while the thousands of other student names had been called but merely stare into each others eyes, his hands tightly held her slim waist to him while her arms wound possessively around his neck, her fingers playing with the long, unruly pieces of his hair that only she seemed to find endearing. Neither of them said a word for they were unnecessary, but, as soon as the announcement was made that the class of 2010 should stand, he picked her up, held her closely to him, and kissed her, his fiancé, as passionately as he could, loving the fact that she seemed to crave his touch as much as he craved hers. Moments later, the ceremony over, they were the only two recent college graduates who walked out of the auditorium, hand in hand, who knew they were wearing their own hats. Too lost in their embrace, they had never tossed them. _

His memories would have continued, perhaps recalling how they had celebrated their engagement that evening or the look upon their parents' faces when they had shared the news with them a week later, but Marissa stirring in his arms brought his fantasy world of days gone by crashing around him, and the present became all he could think about.

"Hey," he greeted her awakening figure softly. Unable to think of anything else to say, he relied upon their tried and true greeting. She simply nodded in response, but, when she moved to pull away from him, he just held her even tighter against his body. Deciding he would have to be the one to start any conversation they might need to have, he gathered his thoughts and then began with a simple question. "Are you hungry? I could make you something, anything you want, or order you some takeout." She only ignored his inquiry. "Okay, even if you're not hungry, Marissa, we still have to talk about a few things. We need to tell our family." He paused, swallowing thickly. "We need to make….funeral arrangements for the baby. It's been three days…."

"No," she cried vehemently, wrenching her body away from his and standing up. She was in one of her comfort outfits, a pair of his boxers and one of his large t-shirts from college, so, as soon as she was out from under the warm confines of their comforters, her slim, un-pregnant body immediately was covered in goosebumps as the chill of the night air attracted her defenseless skin, and she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to offer heat and comfort. "No," she repeated, "we're not telling anyone what happened. It's none of their business. She wasn't theirs; she was our daughter, yours and mine, and we're the only ones who really knew and loved her, so we're the only ones who get to mourn her!"

"They're going to figure it out eventually," Ryan insisted. He didn't want to push her too far, but he knew she was hanging onto her sanity by threads, and he was determined to do everything in his power to help her through the pain of losing their daughter. It was the only way he would be able to make it himself.

"I don't care what they do or what they don't do," Marissa pressed on, turning her back to him and moving towards the basinet they still had set up in their room. She had refused to let him put it away. Resting her hands on the edges, he noticed how tight her grip was as her delicate knuckles turned a ghostly white. In a softer tone, she explained. "They'll just come down here with their sympathy and their platitudes, but none of them know what it's like to struggle for years to conceive a child and then carry and love that child for months only to have them come out of your body already dead. They don't know what it's like to hold your perfect, beautiful daughter in your arms and know that she'll never call you Mommy, that she'll never get to go to school, have a best friend, fall in love, that she'll never be a mother herself, and I don't want to have to pretend to appreciate their compassion and words of wisdom. And then," she let a sob escape her dry, chapped lips, "Summer and Seth would come with their three precious, alive children, and we would have to watch them while we said goodbye to the only child we'll ever have. We don't deserve that, Ryan; our little girl doesn't deserve that."

"So, you want it to be just you and me," he realized. "You want to have a private ceremony to bury our daughter?"

Spinning around with eyes flashing, she glared at him. "Bury her? You want me to say goodbye to our only child forever, to put her in a small, cold, wooden box, and toss her away into a little, dark hole where she'll be alone?" Shaking her head no, she quickly moved towards him, opening their bedroom door and screaming, "leave me alone! I want to be alone!"

"But, honey," his tone was soft, soothing, gentle, "we have to…."

"Get out," she yelled again, interrupting him. "Get out!"

Dejectedly, he did as he was told, closing the door delicately so as not to disturb her as he moved out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Marissa broke down, tears cascading out of her eyes faster than she could even care to wipe away. That wasn't what she wanted; she didn't want to hurt Ryan, because she needed him. He was the only person who understood what she was going through, what she was feeling, and he was the only person who made her feel that she wasn't alone and that there was still hope left in the world, but she couldn't bury their daughter yet. She had only been born three days before, and Marissa needed more time with her. While their little girl was still at the hospital, she felt like a mother, but as soon as they signed her death certificate and agreed to a funeral, everything would be final and the only child she had ever carried and nurtured in her body would be taken away from her for eternity.

Making her way across their room, she went back to the basinet that was set up and ready for their daughter, picked up the baby blanket her own mother had used with her when she was a baby, the blanket she had planned to cradle her own daughter in, and wrapped it around her shoulders as she settled into the chaise lounge in front of their bedroom window. Looking outside, her tears still stinging her eyes, she could see all the things Ryan had built and prepared for their child. He had fixed the swing set, put in a sandbox, blocked off the yard with a white picket fence, and had put baby seats on both of their bikes. Over and over again, her mind would return to her husband. He had given her so much since the day they had met on the end of the Cohens' driveway, and all she had wanted to do was give him one thing: a baby, but she had failed. In her eyes, he had given her everything, love, hope, protection, even her future.

_As she waited for him to pick her up for their date that night, she played with the thin CD case that housed a new burnt disk she had prepared for him. Instead of doing the research their tutor had assigned that night, she had surfed the net for new bands, unsigned bands, and had found this group. Although she had never heard of them, she had tried their music and thought they were something Ryan would enjoy. While she had taken her shower and got dressed, she had downloaded the songs and burnt the CD for him, a hobby that was quickly becoming a habit. He seemed to like that she knew him well enough that she could pick out songs he would like, and she loved anything that put his small, unique half grin on his face. _

_Their senior year by anyone else's standards was untraditional, but, for them, a couple who had never done anything the conventional way, it worked and worked well. After getting kicked out of Harbor, the Cohens had offered to provide them both with a tutor, so not only did they get to spend their days together, but there were no other students to cause trouble in their relationship. It was like they were in their own little universe where the ridiculous problems of Newport and its citizens couldn't touch them. Their mornings and afternoons were spent with the tutor, sneaking longing glances and notes back and forth to each other while their free hands played with the others under the table, and their nights were spent alone, just the two of them, either on dates or simply watching TV in the poolhouse while they did their homework together. Of course, they also managed to find moments of privacy to do…other things together, more pleasurable things. _

_Watching the Range Rover pull into Summer's driveway, Marissa quickly stood up from her seat on the front stairs and smiled to herself as she saw Ryan jump out of the vehicle and come to her side to give her a soft kiss in greeting and help her into the vehicle. That night they were going out on a date instead of staying in together. _

"_What's that," he had asked, nodding towards the CD she still held. "Were you playing around on the internet again instead of doing your homework?" Smiling sheepishly, she shrugged her shoulders in answer while slipping the disk into the car's player. "I guess it's a good thing I typed up the assignment so that you can change a few things and have a copy, too," Ryan teased her. _

"_I meant to do it," she explained, leaning over the console to kiss his cheek for thinking of her and basically doing her work as well, "but you know how I get when I start discovering new artists."_

"_Oh, so you're discovering them now? Which record label do you work for again, because I forget?"_

"_Shut up," she had laughed, slapping his arm playfully as she pretended to pout. "If you're not nice to me, I'll start finding bands that only I'll like to torture you with."_

_He had simply smiled at her as the music started to play, lacing his free hand together with hers while his other continued to drive them to the Diner where they were going to pick up food before leaving again to go parking. Marissa had teased him about the plans, but, on the inside, she had been ecstatic that they were doing something so…normal for teenagers, simple, fun, and completely mischievous. The scenery of the shore passed by the quickly moving, tinted windows of the SUV as they made their way to their destination, and the two of them sat in complete silence, a comfortable, relaxed silence, while they let the music wash over them. _

"_I like them," Ryan finally broke through the quiet of the vehicle as they pulled into the parking lot of the Diner. "I really like them. You know," he realized, turning to offer her a large, excited smile. "You're really good at this. I know I tease you about it, but maybe you could do this, discover," he mocked with a roll of his eyes, "bands for a record company. If you can find songs that I like, the boy from Chino where, according to Seth, they don't have music, then I'm sure you'd be able to find songs that everyone would like."_

_Animated, she had asked him, "you really think I could do this?"_

"_I know you could," Ryan answered, leaning across the console to let his lips meet hers. The simple kiss turned into a fiery embrace as most of their kisses tended to do, and, by the time they pulled away, they were both breathless and fighting to regain their composure. _

"_So," Marissa said as she rested her forehead against that of her boyfriend's, "we're looking for a college where you can study architecture and I can study…something to make me a talent scout."_

"_Yeah," he had responded, kissing her one last time before jumping out of the car and running into the Diner. Moments later, he had returned with their orders, and they had quickly sped away for the look out point where teenagers often went parking. That night, as it was early and most high school students were at the Friday football games, they had the cliff to themselves, and, after eating, their innocent make out session turned into more, and they had ended up celebrating their plans for the future by making love. As she had lounged in his arms afterwards, glowing and glistening in completely bliss, Marissa had turned to Ryan, her eyes sparkling and lips parted in a wide smile. _

"_Promise me," she had demanded of him, "that we'll do crazy, juvenile things like go parking and end up having sex in the back seat of the car when we're old, married, and boring with kids, a house, and a dog of our own."_

"_It's a deal," Ryan had answered, sealing their vow with another endless kiss. It had been the perfect night, the perfect date, one neither of them would ever forget. _

As the memory faded out, Marissa started crying again, fresh tears this time. They weren't from the loss of their daughter or for being mean to the only man she had ever loved, but because she had been the one to break their promise from all those nights before, because something had gone wrong and their daughter had died while still inside of her. She pulled the small blanket tighter around her body, burying her face in the subtle scent of the baby detergent she had washed it with in expectation for the child she would use the blanket to cover, but the thin scrap of material wasn't enough to comfort her. Instead, she wanted Ryan's arms.

"Ssh," he whispered as he molded his body around hers on the chaise lounge. She had not heard him come in but knew he must have been sitting outside of the door listening for when she needed him. "It's alright," he reassured her. "I know nothing seems okay right now, but I promise you, Marissa, I promise you that we'll get through this together, just you and me, and we'll do it when we're ready, when you're ready."

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, turning around in his arms to cling to him as if her life depended upon it. "I didn't want you to leave. I need you….here with me, always."

"I know, I know," he calmed her, his soothing, gentle hands caressing her dull and tangled hair as if it was the most precious thing in the world. To him, it was. "And I never left you," he revealed, "and I never will."

At his words, she glanced up at him, a small smile tracing her lips. "I believe you," Marissa said with a confident voice. "From the day you made me your wife, I knew you'd always be there. You're the only one I can trust like that."

"Just as you're the only person who has always believed in me, stayed by my side no matter how badly I've messed up."

"And I always will," she promised, lifting her body delicately to place a healing kiss on his lips that were designed for only hers to touch before settle back into his arms.

Lost in the moment they were sharing, Ryan let his mind wander back to the day they had gotten married. "I still can't believe you went along with my idea."

"What, you mean a spur of the moment ceremony at the courthouse where we had to pay a couple we didn't know $50 to stand up as our witnesses?" Sighing, she snuggled her head into his strong, protective chest. "It was perfect, just you and me, the way things were always meant to be. I didn't need my family there, because," Marissa revealed, blushing when she looked back up at him, "from the day I first met you, you became my family."

"And you're mine," he agreed with her. "I do have one regret though," he admitted, "not being able to see you in a proper wedding dress."

Quietly, she thought for a moment. "Yeah, but you got to see me in my Cotillion dress, and whenever I imagined our wedding when we were still in high school or even when we were in college together, I always saw myself in that dress and you in the tux you had on that night. In a way, that was our formal wedding. That night was the first night I let myself imagine what it would be like to be with you forever, and, in my heart, I was promised to you from then on."

"Do you still have your Cotillion dress?" She nodded her head yes, curious as to where he was going with his question. "Well then….maybe, and this is up to you, but for our next anniversary, you could wear it, and I'll put on one of those ridiculous tuxes you like me in so much, and we could have another private ceremony, recommit ourselves to each other."

"It sound perfect," Marissa punctuated her statement by kissing him for several moments. Pulling away, she smiled in a cheeky manner. "Do I get as nice of a wedding present again this time?"

"What," Ryan laughed, "another house?" After their ceremony, he had taken for a drive, telling her he wanted to show her a house he liked. They had pulled up in front of their home, and her face instantly fell when she saw that it was sold, because it was perfect for them, exactly what she had always pictured them buying. He had told her that, although someone had bought it, they could still look around, see if it was something they liked so they could look for a similar house of their own. Shocking her, he had walked her around to the back door and away from prying eyes where he had proceeded to break a pane of glass in the French door's window to unlock it so they could get in. Once inside, they had walked around the empty house until they had reached what was the master bedroom. As soon as they had stepped into the room, the only one that was completely furnished, Marissa had started crying as sudden realization set in. There were flowers, unlit candles, food brought in from the Diner in Newport, and more pictures of them together than she could count. He had bought the house for them. The perfect, house of her dreams, was their home, his wedding present to her. Ryan had tried to explain that because he had purchased the house, they couldn't afford a big wedding or fancy honeymoon, but she had cut of his words with insistent kisses and feverish touches, stripping him of his clothes as quickly as her hands would allow her. In that moment years before as they had made love for the first time as husband and wife, as they had made love for the first time in the room that would be their bedroom for the rest of their lives, he had made her the happiest woman alive.

"No," she finally answered him, her voice serious as she shook the memories away, "I don't want another house. This is the only home I ever want us to live in."

"I'm sure I'll be able to think of something you'll like to give you as your present," Ryan assured her. Standing up from the chair, he effortlessly picked her up in his arms and cradled her against his chest as he made his way towards their bed. "For now though," he continued, placing her delicately down against the pillows and blankets, "it's late, and you need your rest." Within moments, he had crawled in beside her, pulling her body to rest against his, her head finding its customary position over his heart. Finally, he was able to rest, his eyes dropping closed almost immediately. "I love you, Marissa."

"I love you, too," she returned without any hesitation. "Forever."

They were both in pain, hurting more than any one person should ever hurt, but they would survive the loss of their daughter just as they had made their way through all the other terrible events of their life: fighting together as one and depending upon the love they felt for each other.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"I just….I just don't know what to do for her," Ryan admitted softly almost as if he was talking to himself, but he wasn't. Instead, he was on the phone with Marissa's doctor, her very sympathetic yet ultimately helpless doctor. "All she does is sleep. Whether it's in our bed or on the chair in our room, she sleeps and cries and just sits there and thinks about…her and what might have been."

"Will she talk to you," she questioned in order to gauge the level of her patient's depression.

"Well…if I talk to her, she'll listen and attempt to comfort me…."

"That's a good sign."

"Yeah, but," Ryan argued insistently, "she won't bring up the baby unless I do, and she still won't consider the idea of burying her."

"What about taking care of herself?" When Ryan didn't respond, she pressed. "Will she shower or take a bath, brush her teeth, change her clothes?"

"No." Sighing roughly, he explained. "Last night I tried talking her into taking a bath since her last one had been at the hospital Monday morning before we left, but she merely rolled over in bed and ignored me. I wouldn't listen to her this morning though and simply picked her up, carried her into the bathroom, and bathed her myself, changed her clothes for her, and then helped her to brush her teeth."

"And how did she respond to your actions?"

"She didn't say anything, but the bath seemed to help her relax. I could feel some of the tension ease out of her body, and she didn't fight me as much when I went to open the window to let some fresh air into the room." Cautiously, he admitted, "but there are times when…"

"When what, Ryan," the doctor pushed him. She could sense his hesitance. "I can't help her if you don't tell me everything."

"It's like she forgets the baby is….," he swallowed thickly before saying the word he still had trouble admitting, "dead. When she doesn't know I'm watching her or when I check on her between doing other things, I'll sometimes catch her talking to her, to the baby…almost as if she's still here. I don't think she's going crazy, because when I bring her up, Marissa knows we lost her, but….shit," Ryan's voice suddenly became louder. Dropping the spoon he had been using to stir the sauce he was making, he struggled to keep a hold of the cordless phone as it slipped from between his shoulder and ear and almost landed on the floor. "Sorry," he apologized, "I'm barely holding myself together, what between the baby and now worrying about Marissa. Even simple tasks like cooking dinner seem difficult now."

"You're cooking dinner," the physician exclaimed eagerly. "Ryan, if Marissa's eating, that's an excellent indication that she's going to get through this."

"She's not though. I'm making one of her favorite meals in an attempt to entice her into eating. It's been almost 54 hours since we've left the hospital, and she hasn't eaten anything yet."

"What about drinking? You're not letting her get dehydrated, are you?"

"No, I make sure that she drinks at least a couple glasses of something every day, water, juice, milk, whatever she'll take without fighting me too much."

"Good," the doctor praised him. "At this point, that's the most important thing. Keep her hydrated no matter what you do. As for her depression, just keep an eye on her, keep trying to talk to her, and keep encouraging her to talk to you. If anything gets worse before her check up on Friday, just call me back and let me know. Between the two of us, we'll make sure that Marissa makes it through this both emotionally and physically. Speaking of which, how is she feeling?"

"She's still sore," he answered, "but nothing, from what I can tell, that's out of the ordinary. Timidly, he kept talking, his voice dropping in volume and raising in octave due to his embarrassment. "There is one problem though," he revealed. "Um…how long will she continue to….make milk? I mean….we….she was planning on breast feeding, but there's no baby now, and it's like her body is mocking our loss."

"It shouldn't be that much longer now," she attempted to comfort Ryan, "especially since she's not eating properly." He could hear the doctor let out an uneasy breath before she went to ask him another question, and he suddenly understood why Marissa didn't want anyone else to know about their loss. Her sigh said so much, but all he could hear was pity, and, knowing that she had two teenage sons, two healthy, growing, happy, intelligent, alive sons, at home made her pity taste like bile in his mouth. "And how are you dealing with this, Ryan," she queried. Although the rational part of his mind knew she was genuinely concerned, he didn't want to hear it.

"I'm fine," he dismissed rather quickly, too quickly it seemed when she wouldn't accept his answer.

"You can't ignore your own pain and solely focus on Marissa. It was your daughter, too, who died. You're grieving and trying to take care of a depressed wife, it can't be easy, but, if you need anything, anything at all, I'll try and help. There are some excellent support groups I could give you the number of. Perhaps going to a few meetings where you could talk to other fathers who've gone through similar experiences…."

"I appreciate your offer," Ryan interrupted her before she could go any further and say that another man's loss was like his own. Nobody other than Marissa knew what he was feeling. "But I don't need your help or anyone else's. Marissa listens to me when I need to talk; we'll get through this together."

"Well, if you're against the idea of group therapy, perhaps the two of you should consider private grief counseling."

Before Ryan could invent another excuse and attempt to make his point clear that he did not want anyone's help, the doorbell rang, distracting him and giving him a legitimate reason to hang up the phone. "Thank you for taking time to speak with me," he said honestly, "but I really have to go. There's someone at the door."

"If there's anything else you need, please don't hesitate to call me. Just in case, do you want me to give you my home phone number?"

"No, I don't think that will be necessary." The doorbell sounded again before the impatient person outside the front of his house started knocking as well. "Listen, thanks again. We'll see you on Friday."

"Have you contacted your family yet," the physician questioned him, seemingly not wanting to hang up yet.

"We're not going to," he answered brusquely. At a loss for what else he could say to end the conversation, he simply said, "bye," before clicking off the phone and tossing it aside. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he yelled in an annoyed fashion. Ryan had no idea who would be calling to see them. Their family had no knowledge of the fact that Marissa had lost the baby, and they weren't particularly friends with any of their neighbors. "What," he called out exasperatedly as the door swung open to reveal a woman standing with her back to him. As she turned around, recognition setting in almost immediately for Ryan as he noticed her unique scent of cheap perfume, cigarette smoke, Jack Daniels, and the incense she used in an attempt to hide her bad habits, he let out a strangled grunt of complaint, his eyes moving quickly over her only to fill with sheer shock and anger. "Is this some kind of sick joke," Ryan asked, motioning towards what she was holding in her arms. "Who sent you here? Who told you to do this?"

With a blank, confused stare, she looked back at him, lost as to how she should respond. "Ryan, I don't….I don't know what you're talking about. I knew you wouldn't be excited to see me, but I'd hoped you wouldn't be this upset."

"Upset," he repeated her words incredulously. "Upset doesn't even begin to describe what I'm feeling right now! After what happened to us….to Marissa and I you show up here, on our doorstep, with no warning, not even a phone call, holding…that!"

"It's just a baby," Dawn dismissed him, pushing her way past her son and moving into the house. "What's going on with you? You used to like kids. Hell, they even liked you. Now though you act as if you're afraid of them or something. Well, it's not going to bite, Ry." Without any explanation, she moved her way into the house, observing her surroundings and smirking to herself. "You've really done well for yourself, you and this Marissa. Is she your wife?"

Clenching his fists to curb his rage, he followed her. "Yes, Marissa's my wife. You've met her, you know, but I doubt you'd be capable of remembering, seeing as how you got drunk that night like you always do."

"What night?"

Ryan merely shook his head in frustration. "Never mind," he responded. "It really doesn't matter. Just….stay here, there's something I….I'll be right back." With that, he disappeared into the back of the house, leaving the mother he hadn't seen since he was sixteen and the baby she was holding, a beautiful baby with blonde hair and blue eyes, a newborn baby that painfully reminded him of his own little girl he had only gotten to hold once. There were two differences though. The baby Dawn was holding was a boy…and it was alive.

As soon as he was safely secluded in their home office, he locked the door behind him and let the choked sobs that had been struggling to be released escape his tightly clenched, bloodless lips. It wasn't enough though. Frantically, he searched his surroundings for something to take his anguish out on. Without thought, he simply reached out and picked up the first thing his hands came in contact with, a crystal vase containing what were once fresh flowers that were now wilted in death, and he threw it against the far wall as hard as he could, seeing it and the framed award he had won years before for some unimportant design fall crashing to the floor, giving him a moment's relief, but still it wasn't enough. Suddenly, anything he could pick up and throw was being destroyed: a small, antique clock, their answering machine, a letter opener, a stapler, the cordless mouse to their computer, a container of pens and pencils, even a large, potted plant. His destruction would have continued if he wouldn't have picked up a framed photograph of himself with Marissa.

It was an older picture, one from when they had first moved into the house, and it had always been one of his favorites of them together as a couple. They had been painting the afternoon it was taken, and, while taking a break Marissa had deemed necessary, she had found a camera to take their picture, insisting that she needed something to remember just how much paint she had managed to get on him. He had playfully tried to stop her, making her squeal with laughter and cries of surrender as he tickled her. Somewhere in the middle of their battle of wills, she had unwittingly snapped a picture, capturing the glee they felt that day forever. She was on his lap, his arms wrapped around her and his hands underneath her shirt as he teased and taunted her sensitive skin. While his eyes were intently watching her as an amused smirk played across his lips, hers were closed and crinkled in the corners while she giggled, her mouth open wide to protest his actions. Simply seeing her so happy, so carefree and content, made Ryan realize he couldn't hide away from Dawn all day. He had to face her, give her what she wanted, which in all likelihood was money, and then make her leave before Marissa realized she was there and that she was holding a newborn baby in her arms.

Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and moved out of the office, stopping to splash some cold water on his face in the bathroom before proceeding into the living room. Apparently, tactless as always, Dawn had made herself feel quite a home, putting the baby down on the couch, despite the fact that it was unsafe to keep him there, and was snooping around, looking at pictures and examining all their possessions. "I don't know what you want, but you can't be here," Ryan said as he walked into the formal space. "So, let's just skip the small talk. What do I have to do to get you to leave?"

She ignored him. "I see you have pictures of those people who took you in. You're still in contact with them?"

"They're name is Cohen, and why wouldn't I be in touch with them? They're my family." With an uneasy eye, he quickly looked towards the baby who was still sleeping, worried he would roll between the cousins or fall onto the floor. "What is it you're after, money?"

"You've done really well for yourself, you and your wife," Dawn conceded, turning around to offer him a tentative smile. Seeing his glare, her grin fell from her face swiftly. "What do you do?"

"I don't see how that matters, so let's just skip the small talk. I would ask how you found me, but, at this point, I don't care. Listen," he rubbed his hands against his tired face before continuing, "I can't have you and your kid here, not after what we've been through. Would you please just cut to the chase, so I can give you what you want and you can disappear from my life again for another eighteen years."

"What," she questioned him confused. "This ain't my kid. Ryan, I'm 54 years old. There's no way I could have a baby. He's Trey's."

Hearing that name and knowing that his older brother had the one thing Ryan wanted more than anything else in life was like a fist to the gut, and he quickly had to turn around so that she could not see the hot streak of pain flash across his countenance. Clearing his throat several times before he could speak, he eventually started talking again, mainly to himself but Dawn could hear what he was saying. "Trey….the guy who took every and any drug he could get his hands on, abusing his body, the guy who was violent with women, the guy who….," his voice died away. Some memories were too painful to speak about in front of others even after so many years. If he would have been looking at Dawn, he would have seen her confusion towards his attitude, but, instead, Ryan was lost in his own sea of hate and agony. Spinning around, he glared at her. "It was bad enough knowing that you brought a baby here so soon after what happened, but….Trey's baby, what are you trying to do to us? I had no idea you hated me so much."

"Ryan, I don't hate you," she spoke up quickly, attempting to reach out a hand towards him, but he only backed further away from her like a trapped animal. Giving up, she shrugged her shoulders and started to explain herself. "I had a friend who knows how to use a computer look you up for me, but I'm not here for money or any other help, at least not for me. You see, Trey's disappeared, running from the cops since he got in trouble again. I think he went to Mexico this time, so he might never be back, and he took his girlfriend with him, leaving me with his kid."

"What do you want me to do about it, find him, because there's no way in hell I'm going to lift a finger or spend a single penny to help Trey."

"No matter what me or your father did," Dawn argued with him, "he's still your brother. How can you turn your back on him like that?"

Snorting in disbelief, Ryan answered, "you have no idea what he did to us."

"Us, you mean you and your wife," she pondered, bewildered by his ambiguous statement. "I didn't know you'd seen him after he got out of prison the first time."

"Look, I'm not doing this," Ryan exploded, forgetting about the quiet, resting baby for a moment, the pain of his memories momentarily obliterating the pain he felt about seeing his brother's son. "I'm not taking a trip down memory lane with you. I can't!" The sounds of the abruptly startled baby's screams interrupted him momentarily. "Just….take him," he commanded while pointing to the upset newborn, "and get out of my house. Don't come back here, don't try to contact me, forget I even exist. It shouldn't be that hard for you; you've done it before."

"You don't get it," Dawn pleaded with him to listen to her. "I can't keep this baby. I can barely take care of myself, and you know better than anyone how well I deal with having kids around. I'm just…not cut out to be a parent, and seeing as how successful you and your wife are and that you're happy, I was hoping that maybe you'd….I mean, you don't have any kids of your own, I can tell that from all the pictures around the house, that maybe you'd take him and…."

"I can't even look at him," he yelled fervently, "and after what Trey did to me…"

"Oh, would you quit with that already," she raised her own voice in response, both of them shouting over the baby's wails. "I don't even want to hear about how it was all Trey's fault you got arrested, how he forced you into it. For Christ's sake, Ry, it wasn't like he held a gun to your head, and look at all you got out of it," she motioned towards the house itself and then the various pictures lining his mantle. "Because of Trey, you got the good life, while he's barely been able to make it since he got out of jail. Is it really too much to ask for you to raise his kid after everything he's given you?"

"I am so sick of people telling me I should be grateful to Trey. The only thing he ever did for me was not die after Marissa shot him, so that she didn't have to go to jail!"

"You married the woman who shot your own brother," Dawn narrowed her eyes at him menacingly. "What the hell is wrong with you? You owe him even more than I thought." She went to leave, went to pick up her purse and head towards the door she had entered through uninvited earlier, but Ryan's voice stopped her.

"Take the baby with you, Dawn," he ordered, unsuccessfully attempting to block out the child's whimpers and screams.

"Damn it, Ryan," she went ballistic. "I can't raise a baby. I couldn't when you were a kid, and I sure as hell can't now!"

"And I can't raise the child of a man who tried to rape my wife!"

She hadn't expected him to say that. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh," he mocked her response. "I see Trey conveniently forgot to mention that part of our history to you. Why doesn't that surprise me?" When she merely stood there watching him, he motioned towards the still crying baby. "Would you mind picking him up? I don't want Marissa to know he's here."

"She's home," Dawn spoke up surprised, but Ryan's angry glare told her not to even ask about his wife. "Sure," she said instead, moving towards the baby and picking him up just as he had asked. "And I understand," she continued, nodding her head down towards the stilling newborn. "I'll leave…I'll take him with me, but, before we go, if it wouldn't be too much to ask, would you mind getting me something to drink? It's a long trip back to Chino, and I don't have enough money to stop and buy something."

Ryan simply nodded his head as he moved out of the room and went to the kitchen to get her a drink. Out of her sight and earshot, he released a deep sigh of relief. She was finally leaving, and he only hoped he would be able to forget about her visit, to forget about his brother's son, to forget those blue eyes the little boy had that reminded him so much of his own, eyes he inherited from his Mom, eyes that his little girl, his tiny, vulnerable, innocent, dead baby girl had as well. With a glass of water firmly grasped in his hand, he went back into the room, his eyes scanning it quickly for the woman who had, at least, attempted to raise him for the first sixteen years of his life, only to find it empty and the front door, visible through the doorway, hanging wide open. She had run away…again, but this time the only emotion he felt was gratitude. Without setting the cup down, he made his way into the foyer, shutting the door loudly, only to have the noise trigger a cry from back in the living room again.

The glass slipped from his hands, falling quickly to the hardwood floor to spill and break into a thousand tiny pieces, but he never noticed. Sweat immediately started running down his wrinkled, frightened brow as his hands started shaking uncontrollably. He didn't think he could handle the situation, but his fear for his own sanity wasn't as important as his fear for Marissa's. With eyes averted away from the baby, he slowly made his way back into the living room, willing it to quit crying. No matter what, Marissa could not see it, and the longer it cried, the louder it screamed, the greater the risk she would wake up and hear it. Ryan knew that something was wrong with the baby, that it needed him to take care of it, but he couldn't even glance at it longer than a few seconds let alone touch it. So, confused and panicking, he started pacing. He had no way to contact Dawn, for he did not know her telephone number, if she even had one, or where in Chino she lived, but, no matter what, the child could not stay there, meaning he had to call the authorities, report the incident and then wait for what could be hours for someone to come and take it away. Breaking him out of his thoughts, the fire alarm in the kitchen started blaring, its high pitched shriek only causing the baby to wail even more.

The kitchen was full of smoke when he ran into it, the sauce he had been cooking burnt to the pan. Taking it off the heat, Ryan turned the stove off, cursing the fact that he couldn't even seem to make his wife dinner. It felt as if he couldn't do anything to help her grieve or feel better. After opening up the windows to let the smoke out, he took a pot holder and fanned the smoke alarm, eventually giving up and taking the batteries out of it. Just as the blaring noise stopped echoing through the large home, everything fell silent, even the baby's cries ceased. Willing his overwhelmed emotions away so they wouldn't get the better of him, he picked up the phone he had used before to call the doctor and moved back into the living room, dialing as he walked. Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck stood up and goosebumps covered his body. It was the same feeling he had whenever she was suddenly in his presence. Looking up from the phone, the last digit still lingering in his mind yet not dialed, Ryan saw Marissa with her back to him, her slightly hunched back that he only assumed was caused by her silent tears and sobs at seeing the taunting newborn in the room.

"I'm so sorry," he immediately apologized, hating Dawn and Trey more in that moment than he ever had in his life, knowing that they had hurt her yet again when all he wanted to do was love and comfort her, protect her and keep her safe. "I didn't want you to see him….to know he was even here," he continued to explain, hastily moving to her side. "She…my…Dawn just showed up here, with no warning, and he was with her, but she was supposed to…."

His words faded away, lost in the abyss of sorrow, confusion, and anxiety abruptly separating him from her emotionally. Marissa turned around, her thin, light pajama top unbuttoned enough to reveal one of her swollen, aching breasts, and Ryan was stunned into silence as he watched her tenderly feed the newborn baby he had been so afraid to even look at, letting the son of his brother, the man who had attacked her so brutally when they were teenagers, drink the nourishment her body made for the daughter they had so cruelly lost.

"It's time," she said confidently, meeting his tear filled gaze with her own.

He didn't have to ask her to say anything more; he understood the significance behind her words perfectly. Letting the phone he was still holding slip from his clammy hands, he listened to it land softly on the area rug, the operator's voice as it asked him to redial and try to make his call again the only sound in the room, but he couldn't hear it. Instead, the meaning behind his wife's words kept repeating itself in his mind, and, while he was thankful they had finally reached the point where she recognized it was necessary, he was utterly terrified of the cause of her sudden realization and how it would affect them.

_It was time to say goodbye to their little girl; it was time to bury their daughter._


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"I never forgot that she died."

They were sitting together quietly in the cemetery, leaving their partner to their own silent thoughts and goodbyes. There had been no formal service to bury their daughter, no priest to offer his trite, empty words of comfort, no black mourning clothes, no flowers, no fancy funeral dinners to attend. Instead, Ryan and Marissa had said their goodbyes to their daughter at the hospital the day before, and, after she was buried the next day, they had come to the graveyard, brought a blanket, and sat beside her unmarked grave; the headstone they had ordered for her would take several weeks to be finished. For the past half and hour, she had merely been sitting in his lap, her head resting on his shoulder while their hands were joined together in a comforting, tight embrace, the baby carrier sitting beside them silent as the little boy slept soundly. Only the soft sounds of Marissa's tearful voice as she spoke those important six words were capable of bringing him out of his grieving stupor.

Startled by her admission, he turned his head to gaze into her eyes. "What," Ryan's voice rang out, the confused nature of his simple question evident to his wife's ears.

"You know that bad habit I have," she asked him, blushing and turning away from his watchful stare, "well I was kind of eavesdropping on your conversation with the doctor; I heard what you said, how you were worried about me because I talk to the baby."

He couldn't help it; he laughed, a deep, warm, alive chuckle as he tossed his head back in amusement and tightened his grip around his wife, savoring the feeling of her near him. It was such a strange time to make such a trivial confession, especially since it didn't surprise him at all, because, as she said, it was a bad habit she had, but it was also exactly what they needed to break the tension that had existed between them since the moment he had found her feeding his brother's son. They had discussed the burial arrangements for their daughter, picked out what outfit she would be laid to rest in together, even finally decided on a name for their little girl, but he had not been ready to talk about the baby that had been practically left on their doorstep, and, knowing he often needing time to process things and organize his own thoughts before they could discuss something, Marissa had not brought up the subject. Instead, she had, alone, taken care of the infant boy, another child who needed a name. However, just as soon as his laughter started, it came to a stop, the grin that had transformed his face and brought a light to Marissa's eyes again falling away to be replaced by a hardened frown.

"Were you listening then when Dawn was there; did you hear everything we said to each other?"

Lowering her head, she let go of his hand to fumble distractedly with her own fingers. "Yes," she responded, her voice so low it was practically undetectable, but Ryan still heard it.

Amazed, he exclaimed, "so you know that the baby is Trey's…."

"But that's just it," Marissa turned in his arms, twisting her body to stare deeply into his pained eyes. Suddenly, her embarrassment and apprehension were gone. "He's not Trey's son. At this point, he's no one's son. DNA and blood do not make someone a father; being there for the important moments in a child's life, the day they take their first steps, the day they start kindergarten and ride the school bus for the first time, the day they have their first kiss, the day they graduate from high school, that is what makes someone a dad, and you could be that man for this baby; we could be his parents."

Shaking his head to disagree with her, Ryan gently opposed her statement. "No, we can't, Marissa. It's too soon."

"Under any other circumstances, I would agree with you," she said confidently, "but you're wrong this time. I know we just lost our daughter, that we've barely managed to even start mourning for her, and that this is not the best time to think about taking in another child and loving it as our own, but if we don't, what's going to happen to this beautiful, innocent little boy? It's not his fault that his parents didn't want him; he did nothing wrong, and he deserves to have two adults in his life, a Mom and a Dad who will treat him like the miracle he is. Don't you get it," she pleaded with him softly. "He's our second miracle." When Ryan merely watched her with bewilderment in his cobalt eyes, she explained. "Our daughter was our first miracle. We really should have never been able to conceive a child, but, despite everything standing in our way, we did, and it was magic. I have never gone through anything as painful as finding out the baby girl I carried inside of me for nine months had died during labor, but I could never regret her. I was her Mom for those forty weeks she lived with me, and that was the most amazing experience of my life. After everything we went through, I was able to give you a baby…even if it was for such a short time, and that's all I've ever wanted. But, now, she's gone, and, like another miracle, this baby has been given to us, not to turn over to child services and let the government determine who should raise him but to raise ourselves….as our son. I'm not a religious woman, you know that, but I have to think that our daughter is happy somewhere, that she's content and warm and safe and that she's looking down and watching over us. That's why I speak to her. It's comforting, and, by talking to her about my feelings and my dreams for her, it helps me remember that, although she's gone now, she did once exist. So, when I see this baby, this little boy that, despite not being our child, looks so much like you, in my heart it feels as if she sent him to us. She knew that we needed someone to love, and she saw him and knew that he needed us, too. We are meant to raise this little boy, Ryan; he was meant to be our son. I know it. He's not replacing our daughter, nothing and no one will ever be able to do that, but he can help us as we help him. I'm not going insane, you don't have to worry about me, although, perhaps, I'm already slightly crazy," she joked, needing to make him smile if not laugh, "but that's only because I'm Julie Cooper Nichol Roberts' daughter."

Her efforts were rewarded when Ryan offered her a slight smirk and leaned over to place a delicate kiss on her cheek, but, after that, he was silent as he thought about everything she had said. Satisfied with his response, Marissa sat back in his arms and patiently waited to hear what he thought about her ideas, content to have him hold her as her eyes flickered from the newly made grave that would be her daughter's eternal resting place and the sleeping baby in the carrier beside them. While he contemplated the idea that they should raise his brother's son as their own, a brother Ryan hated with an intense passion, she continued to say goodbye to their little girl, distraught and disappointed tears occasionally falling down her otherwise flawless face.

Breaking the quiet that surrounded them, Ryan finally spoke up, his tone unsure and vague. "How do we do this?"

"Oh, sweetie," Marissa's heart almost broke for her husband as she reached out to cup his face in her petite yet strong hands, "all you have to do is look into his bright, blue, pure eyes, eyes so much like your own, and I know you'll fall in love with…."

"No, not that," he argued with her. "I'm not ready to care for it….him like that yet." When she went to protest, he interrupted her. "I'm not saying I'll never be able to, but it takes me longer than you to accept someone, to let them into my heart. I know that it's wrong and that you're right when you say that he's innocent in all this, that Trey's sins against us have not been passed onto him, but loving someone doesn't come as easy for me as it does for you. I promise you I'll try though."

"You're wrong," she replied decidedly, locking their gazes together. "You fell in love with me just as easily as I did you, and I know that you love me as much as I love you, too."

"Loving you is easy though; I was made to love you."

Abruptly, the tears pooling in her eyes were not from pain and misery but from devotion and ardor. Giving in to her base instincts, Marissa leaned into her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck, and kissed him. At first their embrace was soft, gentle, tender, but it soon grew in fervor, deepening and swelling into a passionate, desperate attempt to show the other just how much they needed and wanted them. Pulling away breathless, she buried her head against his chest, her hands clasping frantically against his plain, basic t-shirt in an attempt to pull him even closer to her. "And you're made to love this baby, too," she assured him, "and, as soon as your heart is ready, you'll look down into his adorable little face, stare into his eyes, and he'll gaze back up at you, smile, and suddenly, you'll just feel that he's your son…that he's our baby."

"Alright." Swallowing thickly, he repeated his statement before expanding upon it. "Alright, we'll do this; we'll raise him as our own child, but what do you want to do first? It's the weekend, so we won't be able to contact a lawyer until Monday. Should we call our family and finally tell them about what's been going on?"

"No," Marissa yelled out forcefully, pulling herself away from her husband's body. "We're never telling them about losing our daughter or how Dawn just left this baby with us and that we decided to raise him as our own. It's none of their business. And we're not contacting a lawyer either."

"Hey, hey," he soothed her, pulling her back into his arms. "We have to do this legally, honey. There's no choice."

"But what if they take him away from us?"

Tipping her bowed chin up so that her scared eyes would meet his own, Ryan smoothed his rough, large palm across her delicate cheek, needing to feel her close to him and to offer her a sense of comfort. "That's exactly why we have to talk to a lawyer. If we don't want him to be taken from us, we'll have to legally adopt him." Stifling her protest, he explained. "Right now it seems as if Trey and the biological mother want nothing to do with him, but if they find out we're raising him years down the road, they might come back and try to either reclaim him or exhort money from us in exchange for the baby. If we legally adopt him, then they won't be able to hurt us or ever get close to him."

"Okay," Marissa agreed, her panicked breathing returning to a normal rate as he alleviated her nerves with his common sense and calm words. "You're right. We have to be careful and do everything in our power to make sure the baby is safe and that no one will ever be able to take him from us, but I'm still not telling our family that he's not ours biologically. I refuse to let our son be treated differently than his cousins just because we didn't make him together."

"Their going to figure something out; they're not stupid. We told them we were having a girl, and when they see us holding a baby that's definitely not female, they're going to realize we're lying about something."

"Doctors make mistakes all the time when they tell expecting parents the sex of their baby. Sonograms are not always accurate," Marissa explained quickly, dismissing his concerns. "We'll just tell them that there was a mess up, and, instead of having a daughter, we had a little boy. He looks like you, so it'll make sense, and, even if his looks change, we'll just say that he looks like another member of your family, someone they haven't met."

"And what about his birthday," Ryan pondered, suddenly finding himself in favor of her plan. "We don't even know when he was born. From what I've been able to find out, he wasn't born in the hospital so there are no formal medical records, no proof of his birth."

Thoughtfully, she sat for a moment to think about his question. "What if we make the day he was brought to us his birthday. Legally, that's the first we know of his existence, and, symbolically, it's like the day when he was given the chance to have a real, happy, loving life."

"September 20th then."

"September 20th," Marissa agreed, standing up and holding her hand out to help her husband climb to his feet as well. "But, for now," she continued leaning into him as he lifted the baby's carrier into his right hand, his left wound securely around her delicate waist, "let's go home…as a family." In answer, Ryan smiled down at her, while she turned to their daughter's still unmarked grave. "Mommy and Daddy will be back to see you soon," she promised. "We love you." Wiping away the last tear she would cry that afternoon, Marissa blew a tender kiss into the air, meaning it to touch and warm the cheek of her baby girl. Whispering an almost silent, "thank you," she tucked her head into Ryan's chest as he led them out of the graveyard towards their car and back to the life that was awaiting them, a life for the two of them and their son.

-+-

Letting an exhausted sigh escape his clenched lips, Ryan leaned back in the leather office chair behind his desk. It was two days after their monumental talk at their daughter's gravesite, and Ryan was back at work despite the fact that he only wanted to be by Marissa's side. He realized sitting there that she was the only thing that made him forget his pain, the only thing holding him together, the only thing helping him move past and move forward from the loss of their little girl. However, that said, it was still difficult to be around the baby boy their were raising as their own, and that's why he had decided to go back to work early. After explaining his feelings to Marissa, somehow needing her to reassure him that his fear of the child did not make him a monster, she had promised him that his reaction was perfectly understandable, that he was not disappointing her, and that their son would never know he was scared of him, because, despite Ryan not being able to see it, she could see it in his eyes that he already loved the little boy. There were moments when he could believe her, too.

When he watched Marissa with the baby, when he could see how much she already adored the cheery, beautiful child, his heart would swell with love for his wife, and, knowing that she cared for their son so much made him love the baby because he was capable of making her so happy, and in those moments he was able to forget the fact that Trey was the child's biological father and could feel as if he could be the Dad the baby deserved. It had hit him when he had watched Marissa strap the little boy into a stroller to take him for a walk down by the pier to show him the ocean for the first time, when she had screamed out in horror when the small child had peed on her when she was changing his diaper, and when he had accidentally walked in on her talking to their son and explaining to him that he had a big sister who was watching out for him, keeping him safe, and making sure that he was always healthy, protected, and content. In those moments, he knew she was right and that he would eventually love their son as much as he loved their deceased daughter.

Picking up the phone he had just put down after contacting a highly recommended lawyer to handle the complicated and long procedure of adopting his brother's abandoned, legally, so far, non-existent baby, he dialed a number long ago memorized. Waiting patiently for the loud, masculine, booming voice of his adoptive father or the soft, feminine, gentle voice of his adoptive mother to answer, Ryan went over the planned explanation he and Marissa had concocted together to tell their family. Surprising him, they both greeted him warmly on the phone, obviously setting it to speaker, as they forgot common courtesy and demanded information right away.

"Did it happen," Kirsten asked excitedly. "Did Marissa give birth?"

"How does it feel to be a Dad," Sandy questioned at the same time, jumping to conclusions and immediately assuming the answers to his wife's queries.

"Yes," Ryan answered, "she gave birth, and they're both doing well. The baby was born on the 20th, weighing seven pounds exactly, and its twenty inches long."

"Wednesday," his petite, blonde mother exploded, "she gave birth Wednesday and you're just now calling us! Ryan, that was five days ago!"

"I know, I know," he agreed, "but we were selfish and just wanted a few days alone as a family, just the three of us. We knew that you guys and Julie would rush here right away when we told you, but we didn't want that. We would love for you all to come down this weekend though. Marissa and I thought we'd have a picnic for the whole family and you'd all be able to meet him then."

"Well, alright, but I still wish…."

Kirsten's words were interrupted by Sandy's surprised, confused tone. "Wait, did you just say he? You had a boy…a son?"

"Yeah," Ryan answered, laughing. "It was unexpected for us, too."

"But you were all ready for a little girl," Kirsten stated the obvious. "What are you going to do now?"

"Marissa's just going to buy all new stuff," he answered, shrugging his shoulders dismissively despite the fact that they couldn't see his nonchalant behavior. "That's actually where she's at right now. I came into work while she went out shopping with the baby, and we're meeting at home this afternoon so I can help her set everything up in the new nursery." That was all he was going to say, for they didn't need to know that they were keeping their daughter's room intact for a while until the point when they were ready to part with her things, and, even once they were, some of it would be packed away and saved as a remembrance of her while the rest would be donated to charity instead of simply returned to the stores.

"I'm sure Julie and Kirsten will be going shopping all this week to help as well," Sandy joked at his wife and former mother-in-law's expense. "And before you say it's unnecessary," he stopped Ryan from speaking, "just remember that we're talking about two Newpsies with black AmEx cards. Their will is not their own; it's controlled by the plastic their well manicured hands clutch so desperately."

"We're not that bad," Kirsten defended, "well at least I'm not, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to pick up a few things for my new grandson."

"That's fine," Ryan decided to not even attempt trying to stop her from shopping, "but could you wait until this evening to call Julie. Marissa hasn't talked to her Mom yet, and this news should really come from us first."

"That's no problem," Sandy promised his son. "What about Seth and Summer though? Have you two talked to them yet?"

"No, we haven't, but we thought that perhaps you and Kirsten would like to tell them, help us spread the news."

"We'd love to, Ryan," she replied breathlessly, smiling at the idea.

"Thanks, but I really have to go. I have to stop by the store on my way home and pick up some groceries. Plus, I have to finish painting the baby's room tonight."

Before he could hang up, the older man's voice rang out, stopping Ryan, the man who had been the only real father to him his entire life. "Wait! You never told us the baby's name."

"It's August Buckley Atwood," Ryan revealed, waiting for their responses which were undoubtedly going to be interesting.

"Buckley," they exclaimed together at the same time, making the younger man chuckle.

"Yeah…we know it's a little unconventional, but it's a name that means a lot to both Marissa and I." With one last laugh, he went to end the conversation. "We'll see you this weekend," and hung up the phone while his parents were still in a shocked silence. Picking up the paperwork he had yet to even start, Ryan made his way out of his office. Suddenly, he realized he would rather work at home and watch Marissa with their son instead of sitting alone in his office. He might not be perfectly comfortable with the baby yet, but, in that moment, he would rather be with him than away from his wife. So, with a smile on his face, a whistle on his lips, and just a hint of sadness for their recent loss in his eye, Ryan made his way home to wait for his wife, their second miracle, and her numerous bags of blue baby supplies.

-+-

"Ryan, I need your help," Marissa called out to her husband as soon as she entered their home that evening. He could hear the baby's cries and the urgent tone of her voice, making him worry. Running down the stairs as quickly as he could for he had been painting just as he had said he had to, he took the steps two at a time, rushing to her side, and searched her body, her face, her eyes for any sign that she wasn't okay.

"What, what is it," he panted out, his breathing labored due to his exertion of energy. "Are you alright?"

"I have to go to the bathroom," she yelled over her shoulder as she hurriedly retraced his steps up the staircase after shoving their crying son into his stiff, awkward arms. "He's hungry, but I couldn't feed him in the stores. I might not be bashful, but breast feeding in the middle of a mall is definitely something even I won't do."

With no other explanation, she rushed away, leaving Ryan and the little boy alone. Under his breath, he complained, "you'll have sex in the middle of a mall but you won't feed a baby." Rolling his eyes, he groaned, "women," his words only eliciting louder, more tearful wails to come forth from the small child in his arms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he hastily apologized to the baby. "I won't tease your Mom. Just do me a favor and quit crying." Staring at his upset son, Ryan hoped his small plea would silence the shrill screams coming forth from the small boy's mouth, but it only seemed to make him cry harder. "Shit," he cursed before his eyes widened and he realized he had just swore in front of his child. "I mean shoot. Come on, Ryan, this isn't rocket science; it's just a baby. What would Marissa do?"

Stepping away from himself to observe the scene objectively, he realized that holding the baby underneath his arms and outstretched away from his body as far as he could was probably not going to soothe the upset child's fears or calm him. So, swallowing his nerves, he pulled the little boy into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around his tiny body and cradling him in his protective hands, one cupping his delicate head while the other wrapped securely around his petite back.

"Hey, it's okay, buddy; I've got you. Mommy's going to be back in a minute, but, until she gets here, do you think you could stop crying for a minute, give me a break and make her see that I'm not a completely hopeless parent? You know, we men have to stick together. It's going to be us against Mommy for a long time, and, before you came along, Mommy's always won, so I definitely could use your help." Without even realizing what he was doing, Ryan bent his head down to rest upon his son's, dropping a light, airy kiss upon the soft, blonde wisps of hair that were the same color as his own as a little boy. "Come on, August," he coaxed as the child's wails turned into whimpers, "you can do it…for Daddy." And, just like that, the baby's cries were silenced, and, suddenly content, he burrowed his head into Ryan's chest, closing his crystal blue eyes and grasping hold of the t-shirt Ryan was wearing.

"Sorry we were later than expected," Marissa apologized as she slowly made her way back downstairs to stand beside her husband. Wrapping her arms around him and rubbing one of her hands in gentle circles upon their son's back, she leaned her head against his shoulder before continuing. "Everywhere we went people kept stopping me and asking about the baby. They all wanted to smile and coo at him, and, of course, I couldn't pass up every opportunity to show off our perfect, beautiful, precious son and tell them that he looked like his handsome Daddy." Briefly she saw a flash of painful doubt flash through her husband's eyes as his mind went to his brother before he realized that she was talking about him, but, just as quickly as it appeared, it left again to be replaced by a lazy, content smile. Leaning up, Marissa placed several kisses along his jaw line, loving the feeling of his five o'clock shadow roughly scratching her soft lips. "Come on," she urged him, moving the three of them towards the stairs. "Let's go up and I'll feed August while you sit and tell me about your day."

"And we'll call your Mom," he suggested, smirking at the thought of the conversation they were about to have with his mother-in-law. "I'm sure she'll be able to provide us with a few laughs."

"Or a migraine," Marissa added ruefully.

"Don't worry," Ryan promised her, letting go of their son with one arm to pull her flush against his body again and meeting her lips with his own. "I won't let her upset you, and, once we're done talking to her, I'll give you a massage. You feel tense from shopping anyway."

"That sounds perfect. Have I told you yet today how much I love you?"

"You just did," he assured her, kissing her one last time before patting her softly on her tempting derrière before following her up the stairs to their bedroom. "And I love you, too." _All three of you,_ he added silently.

-+-

Much later that night after they had napped while August napped, after Marissa had fed their son while Ryan carried in the endless amount of bags from her marathon shopping excursion, after they had dinner, bathed the little boy, and then put him to bed, the two of them were laying in their room while their small child slept peacefully in his bassinet. Just as Ryan had promised, he was giving her a massage. Dressed solely in a pair of boxers, he hovered over his wife, kneading, caressing, and soothing the tense muscles of her neck, back and shoulders, his hands gentle and tender in their ministrations. It had only been a week and a half since she had given birth to their daughter, and though it seemed as if a lifetime had passed from that unforgettable day until that moment they were so intimately sharing, he knew it was much too soon for them to be together as husband and wife, but that did not stop his imagination from running wild as his hips straddled her curvaceous body, as his hands molded themselves to her luscious, silky smooth skin, as his lips, practically on their own instinctual accord, found their way onto her neck. Just as always, her signature scent enveloped his senses, the classic Chanel No.5 perfume she wore mixing effortlessly with her cocoa butter lotion and apple shampoo to send his desire over the brink. Even if it would make his current state of arousal that much more painful, Ryan couldn't deny himself the pleasure of really kissing his wife, of joining their palettes together and letting his tongue explore and taste every nuance of her delicious mouth. Carefully, he moved her so that she was laying on her back, settling his body, once again, over hers as he subconsciously grinded his hips into hers, eliciting moans to escape from his wife's parted lips and causing her eyelashes to flutter in a crazed, uncontrollable manner.

"I'm sorry," he quickly went to move away from her. "I got carried away."

But she wouldn't let him, and, instead, pulled him closer to her by wrapping her arms around his body. Despite the slight pain her actions caused, the pleasure she felt by having her husband between her legs and from feeling his need for her pressed up against her thigh was far more important. Letting a sigh of contentment tickle his face that was hovering above hers, she opened her eyes to gaze into his. "Kiss me," she begged.

Ryan did not have to be asked twice. Lowering his lips to her own, he slowly sipped at her, barely brushing their mouths together before pulling back and repeating his actions, but soon the embraces were not enough and, as their passion escalated and took over, their gentle kisses quickly turned into fervent ones, their tongues dancing together in a sensual, endless, obsessive clinch of wild, reckless, uncontrollable desire.

"Roll over," Marissa ordered as she pulled breathlessly away from her husband's insistent mouth. As he did what he was told, she slid herself down his body, letting her lips kiss a fiery, decadent path down his taunt, muscular chest. "Just because my need can't be satisfied," she purred out saucily, "that doesn't mean I can't do a little something to help you out." Darting her tongue out, she continued to tantalize his senses as she licked her way down his stomach, stopping briefly to graze her teeth against his belly button before slipping her velvety hands into his boxers and rapidly pulling them down, her deft fingers immediately finding their way to his painful erection. "You've taken such good care of me," her lips were so close to him as she spoke, he could feel them vibrating with her seductive words, "but now it's time for me to take care of you." And with that, her hot, wet, sweet mouth found his body again, stimulating the sensitive part of him over and over again until his senses exploded into ecstasy, and the only thought piercing his hazy, lust filled mind, were those of love and devotion for his family, for his wife, their deceased daughter, and their sleeping son.

Life wasn't perfect and it never would be, but he lived for the moments when it was almost ideal, and as he rested in bed that night after Marissa had so thoroughly pleasured him, his sleeping, scantily clad wife wrapped carefully around his naked body while their son slept on peacefully across the room from them, Ryan realized he was living one of those moments. Closing his eyes to join his family in his dreams, he thanked his baby girl for watching out for them and for all the blessings in life. After everything that had happened to, so quickly, change their existence and despite all the pain they had gone through and were still experiencing, he was happy. Ryan Atwood, husband and father, was happy.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"_Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday, dear August, Happy Birthday to you!"_

"Do you have the camera ready, sweetheart," Julie asked her daughter, for she was eager to have the moment her first and only grandchild turned a year old captured in a photograph forever. No one had been more surprised by how well Julie took to being a grandmother than Julie herself. She found the role much easier and much more pleasant than actually being a parent. While she had always loved her girls, she had also had a hard time putting aside her own selfish needs to focus upon those of her children, but, as a grandparent, she could spoil and baby and play and cuddle with her grandson whenever she wanted to, and then give him back to his parents as soon as he became fussy or she became bored. It was the perfect situation for her, and it only helped matters that he was a well behaved child, and, since he was born, she had never seen her daughter happier. Anyone who saw Marissa knew she was meant to be a mother, and the three of them, Ryan, Marissa, and August, were the perfect little family.

"It's my son's first birthday, Mom," the younger woman dismissed her Mother's concerns, "of course I have a camera. Neil is also filming this for us on his camera, so we'll have a video, too."

"Aw, I remember the homemade movies," Seth, who was with them via speaker phone mused lazily to himself while Ryan helped his son blow out his lone candle. As always, Seth was eager to turn the conversation back to a topic he understood and was interested in: himself. "They always consisted of me looking sleek and stylish in my ill cut suits, my unruly curly hair, and eyebrows that needed grooming, because that was before I discovered the magnificent invention called tweezers. I'd be alone, sitting in the corner of a room, scuffing my feet against the parquet floors, and, occasionally, the parentals would appear to pinch my cheeks or ruffle my unruly hair. They'd soon leave though in search of a glass of Chardonnay or Merlot, needing a little refreshment to take the edge off of the suffocating, Newport party, and I would be, once again, left alone with only my thoughts…."

"And your imaginary friends," Ryan added snidely. "Don't forget them."

"Yes, they'd be there, too," the rambling brunette admitted.

With faux enthusiasm in her voice, Marissa redirected the conversation. "Speaking of those invisible playthings of yours, Seth, why don't you go and try to find one. This is my son's first birthday. We're not going to spend the day listening to you wax nostalgic about a past only you seem keen on remembering."

"I'd take what you can get," Sandy offered helpfully. "I can't believe he even remembered what today was."

"He didn't," Summer spoke up for the first time. "Cal and Nic did. They've been driving me crazy all week, first demanding that we go shopping for birthday presents for August even though I'd already picked out some clothes for him a few weeks ago and then by leaving their card making supplies out all over the house. I think they've been more excited for August's birthday than they get for their own."

"Well, we appreciate everything you've sent us," Ryan spoke up. "It was too much, you really shouldn't have bought so many things, but it was really nice of you, so thank you."

"Like I said, the boys were pretty pumped up for today."

"I wish you could have flown out," Marissa said sadly. "We haven't seen the boys in months, and August has changed so much since then. Are Cal and Nic there now so we can talk to them?"

"Yeah, Aunt Marissssa, we're here!"

Recognizing the familiar lisp, the telltale sign of missing teeth, Marissa squealed excitedly, "oh my gosh, Cal, did you lose another tooth? Which one this time? Did the tooth fairy come? What did you get?"

"I lost two," he called out proudly, "both of my front teeth. It's really cool I can stick my tongue out between my other teeth and make hissing sounds. Nic hates it, because he says I look like a snake."

"It's really scarwy, Aunt Marissa," the younger brother offered, his tone adamant in its dislike for his older brother's new found talent. "And he does it when we're eating dinner, so I'll yell at him to stop and get in trouble."

Taunting his younger brother, Cal teased, "that's because you're a big baby. Only babies get scared by snakes!"

"I am not!"

Before the disagreement could turn into an actual fight, Marissa curbed their animosity by taking the conversation back to safer ground. "You never told me what you got under your pillow, Cal."

"Oh," the little boy replied dejectedly, "the tooth fairy left me comic books. I wrote her a letter, just like you told me to last time, asking her to leave me baseball cards, because my Dad always steals my comics, but she didn't listen."

"There's no purpose behind baseball cards," Seth interjected helpfully. "Sure, the gum tastes good, but its flavor doesn't last long, and it'll ruin your teeth, something the tooth fairy does not look too favorably upon. Plus, what are you supposed to do with baseball cards? Yeah, their costumes are cool, but, really, they all look the same just with different colors."

"You're supposed to collect them, Seth," Ryan explained, "because, someday, if the player has a good career, they'll be worth money. Don't worry, Cal," he soothed his oldest nephew, "I was out last week and picked you up some new cards. I just finished putting them in the binders, so I'll send them out in the mail this week."

"Did you get me something, too, Uncle Ryan," the younger Cohen son asked eagerly.

"Of course I did, buddy," his uncle answered with a smile playing across his face. "When your Aunt Marissa and I were out shopping for August's birthday presents, we found this really cool model car for you to put together. I'll send it with the baseball cards."

"Thanks, Uncle Ryan," both of the boys cried out enthusiastically.

""Maybe you guys could draw us some pictures of it to hang in your cousin's bedroom when it's put together," Marissa suggested. "We added all the birthday cards you made August to his wall of art. They look great!"

"That's a good idea," Summer agreed with her sister-in-law. "Why don't you two run along and go find Elizabeth, so Mommy and Daddy can finish talking to your Aunt and Uncle."

The young Atwood couple, their eyes on their son the entire time, could hear their two nephews run away from the phone just as their mother had asked them to. The rest of their small birthday celebration, Sandy, Kirsten, Julie, and Neil were all preoccupied with each other, discussing their grandchildren, their own lives, and sneaking large pieces of cake from the ridiculously big chocolate birthday cake Marissa had ordered from their local bakery. It was a flawless day for a party. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky, the temperature was just right for the late September, Saturday afternoon, and the best part was that everyone they cared about was celebrating August's special day with them…even if five of them were there only by phone.

"So, how's Stella?" After several long moments of complete silence stretched across the line, Marissa broke the quiet to inquire about her toddler of a niece. "I was hoping she'd want to talk to me, too, so I could hear all her new words."

"Oh, she's finally taking a nap," Summer sighed dramatically. "That's her latest game she likes to play, refusing to go to sleep. Elizabeth read to her for over an hour this afternoon, but she still refused to close her eyes. Then I tried giving her a warm bath to see if that would relax her, but she only succeeded in ruining my new silk blouse. Seth suggested that we should just slip her a mickey, but I slapped that idea out of him…literally. Finally, it was Nic who got her to sleep. He took her into his room, put on her favorite movie which, thanks to you, Coop, is The Sound of Music, and she was out like a light in less than fifteen minutes. She's been sleeping ever since, and there's no way I'm waking her up. However, if you want to talk to your niece so much, I'll call you and let you deal with her the next time she refuses to take a nap."

"Anytime," the blonde woman replied. "You know I love spending time with the kids whether they're happy, sad, angry, or even grumpy. I'm still considering kidnapping them someday."

"There's no need to resort to crime," Seth joked. "Just send me all the left over birthday cake, and I'm sure we'll be able to work out a fair deal."

"You'd be willing to trade your three kids for a few measly pieces of stale birthday cake," Ryan asked, shaking his head in amused disbelief at his brother. "You're truly a unique parent, Seth."

"Trust me, he's a unique husband, too," Summer quipped. "But, listen, we have to go. There's a formal dinner we have to be at in two hours, and I'm nowhere near ready for it. Make sure you send us copies of all the pictures, birthday cake for Seth, and would you give my Dad my love for me?"

"Well, if you want, I could put him…"

"Oh, no, don't do that," Summer practically yelled to stop her former best friend from getting her Father. "I haven't talked to him in a few days, so he'll be even longer winded than Death Breath Seth is when he goes off on a tangent only he can understand."

"Hey," her husband whined, "I thought we agreed you wouldn't call me that again!" Mumbling, he continued, "I don't know why I ever told you about that nickname. You'd think I'd know better after being married to you for….how many years has it been?"

"Go get dressed, Seth," his wife ordered him harshly, his loud complaints letting the other couple on the phone know that he had been hit, several times, harshly. "Anyway, I've got to go. Happy Birthday, August," the petite brunette cooed out to her one year old nephew even though he couldn't really understand her. "Oh, and about that cake your sending my ass of a husband," her voice immediately hardened to an annoyed tone, "could you put arsenic in it? Thanks!"

And, just like that, she was gone. It didn't surprise Ryan and Marissa. After all, they had known Summer long enough to expect the unexpected. With a shared, amused smile, they turned the phone off, cut themselves their own pieces of chocolate cake, and set to helping their son eat his very own, specially prepared birthday cupcake. He would be a mess by the time the party was over, his new outfit ruined and stained with chocolate, but they didn't care. He only had his first birthday once, and they intended to do everything they could to make it wonderful for him. In all likelihood, August would be their only child, so they would do anything to make his life as ideal as it could be, and, if that meant letting him smear cake crumbs across his highchair, through his hair, and underneath the silky smooth wrinkles of his chubby legs and arms, then that's exactly what they would do.

-+-

Ryan and Marissa were working together to bathe their son, something they both found to be relaxing and one of the most beautiful moments of their day. Their parents had gone home a half an hour before, leaving their backyard destroyed, their kitchen a disaster zone, and August's bedroom a veritable fantasyland for a child. The amount of presents their little boy had received for his birthday was astounding and ridiculous really, so it was a good thing they had a few spare rooms to store some of the toys and many local charities who would appreciate a generous donation.

While she was running the water, making sure it was just the right temperature, Ryan was taking off the chocolate encrusted shorts and t-shirt their son had worn that day, tickling him and making the small boy giggle the entire time. It was what he always did to distract him, for the small tyke hated to be dressed or to have his clothes removed. Always on the go, he never wanted held or restrained from moving until it was time for bed when he cuddled up in his Mom's arms while she rocked his to sleep in his rocker as Ryan's strong and steady voice read him his bedtime story.

At the sudden sound of bubbles being blown across their son's stomach, Marissa came back to the present, leaving the thoughts of her family behind. Smiling up at her husband and son, she couldn't help but laugh along with them. "So, I was thinking," she admitted when Ryan handed a squirming August into her waiting arms. After gently placing him in the tub and grinning at his chubby little arms splashing the warm water, she continued. "I think we should spend the day together tomorrow, just the three of us. We could turn off our cell phones, not tell anyone where we're going, and just focus on our family."

"It sounds great," he agreed readily, bending down to kiss her on the lips gently before taking his standard position beside her while they worked together to bathe their son. "Did you have any particular place in mind?"

"Actually, yes," she admitted, turning towards him. "It's ridiculous that we live in San Diego with one of the best zoos in the world and haven't taken our son there yet."

"The zoo," he questioned her, casting a sideways glance in her direction, his doubt evident. "You do realize that it's supposed to be hot tomorrow, and, since it's Sunday, the whole place is going to be packed with other families, families with older, louder, obnoxious kids?"

Playfully glaring at him, she yelled, "Ryan Atwood! Kids are not obnoxious!"

"They are if you're not either their Mother or their Aunt. I only like kids who love you."

Despite her best efforts, she couldn't help but laugh at his cheeky comment. "Someone must have done something wrong to be sucking up this bad. What is it this time? Did you buy a new car without checking with me first? Perhaps you signed on for a big project that will keep you away from home more."

"I wouldn't do that, Marissa," he assured her, but she was on a roll and just simply digressed further into her negative ideas.

"Wait, you did not volunteer me to go shopping with your boss' wife again, did you, Ryan? Anything would be better than that!"

"Let me get this straight," he stopped her, still refusing to answer her question. "You would rather I spend tens of thousands of dollars on a new car we don't need than spend a few hours with my boss' wife?" In answer to question, she nodded her head emphatically. "And you would rather I be assigned to a demanding project that would take me away from you and August than appease the old bat by shopping with her for an afternoon?"

"Yes!"

"I am so not feeling loved right now," he complained, pouting.

"Ryan," she pointed out loudly, "the first, last, and only time I went anywhere with that woman, she demanded that I help her pick out lingerie, and, not just your typical bra and panty set, she took me to a store that sold edible lingerie!"

"Why didn't you buy any?"

"My clothes don't stay on long enough as it is," she snapped, smirking at his smug expression, "so I didn't think you needed any more encouragement. Besides," she amended with a soft glance towards their son, "this is not a conversation we're having in front of August. Just know that I'll never go anywhere with your boss' wife again, case closed."

"Well, that's good, because she didn't invite you." At the annoyed expression on his wife's face, Ryan changed the subject back to a safer topic. "And I think going to the zoo is a great idea. We'll make a whole day out of it. We'll go out for breakfast…."

"You'll make us breakfast and serve it to me in bed," she amended his statement for him. There were no arguments on his part.

"Okay, so after breakfast in bed, we'll get August ready together and set off for the zoo. I figured we could pack a picnic lunch and take it with us and then stop for dinner on our way home. Once he's asleep, maybe we could do something with just the two of us, get a babysitter and go out, or even just stay in and spend the night in bed."

"Hm," she teased, smiling down at the little boy and playing with the water briefly while she talked, "we'll have to wait and see if Daddy's a good boy tomorrow before Mommy makes that decision, right August?"

"Dada!"

"That's right, baby, Daddy will have to be on his best behavior if he wants to stay in tomorrow night instead of going dancing."

"Dancing, Marissa," Ryan groused, furrowing his brow in disapproval of her idea. "You know that I…. Wait a second, what did August just say?"

"He didn't say anything," she answered. "You know he hasn't started talking yet."

"No, he said something, and you responded to him, but we were both too caught up in out bantering to really notice. I think he said Dada."

Tickling her son, Marissa used her baby voice to talk to the little boy. "August didn't say Daddy, because he's going to say Mommy first, aren't you angel?"

"Dada!"

"Ha," Ryan yelled in triumph, standing up and pumping his fist in a vain attempt to congratulate himself. "I told you! I told, Mommy, didn't I, buddy," he asked his son, picking him up from the bathtub and holding his wet and squirming body to his clothed chest. "You did listen to me all those months ago when I told you we boys had to stick together, didn't you?"

"He's talking," Marissa whispered tearfully, standing up from her crouched position to wrap one of her arms around her husband while the other caressed the silky soft skin of their son's back. Resting her head on Ryan's shoulder, she pressed. "I can't believe he's already talking."

"Honey, he's a year old. You had to know it was going to happen sooner or later."

"Yeah, I know," she agreed with him, "but I wasn't ready for this yet. He's growing up too fast. He's not going to be my little boy much longer."

"He'll always be your little boy," he assured her, dropping a light kiss onto the crown of her head, the ringlets of curls from the humidity surrounding her forehead tickling his lips. "Sure, he's going to get bigger and he'll be able to do more things, but that'll just make it better than it is now. He'll be even more fun." Breaking through their emotional conversation, August kicked his feet against Ryan's stomach, accidentally hitting his Mom's arm, alerting both of them to the fact that he was quickly growing discontent. "Come on," Ryan suggested, moving the three of them towards the door, "let's go put this little guy to bed, and then I'll give you a bath, too."

"Promises, promises."

-+-

"I told you I'd give you a bath," Ryan teased his wife as they laid snuggly together in the garden tub of their master bathroom.

"Yeah, but I don't remembering offering to give you one, too."

"You don't have to," he said easily, letting his hands wander from her shoulders, down her arms, and under the multitude of scented bubbles to find the loofa he would need to wash her body. "I'll do all the work."

Playing along, she taunted, "oh, so this is work now, spending time with me when I'm naked, getting to excuse your wandering fingers as the careful ministrations of a helpful husband?"

"Alright, so perhaps work was the wrong way to describe giving you a bath." Leaving the discussion there, he squeezed a generous proportion of her body wash unto the loofa, lathering it slowly while he talked. "I still can't believe that August said 'Dada'. Two years ago at this time we thought we'd never get to experience this…a child, and, even though it didn't happen the way he had planned, here we are. I'm a Daddy, and you're a Mommy, and we have a son, a healthy, happy, beautiful son."

"Don't forget smart," Marissa added lightly, letting her head drop down onto his broad shoulder as she began to enjoy the delicate embraces his hands were administering onto her wet and supple body. "Our son is very smart, too." Sighing dreamily, she continued. "It was the perfect way to end today. First we got the call from the lawyer telling us that August's adoption has finally gone through, that he's legally our son, and that no one will ever be able to take him away from us. Then we had his party, and everyone who loves him got to spend his special day with him even if some were only by phone. And then, just now, he called you Daddy. Our little boy's talking, Ryan, he's talking. Do you know what this means?"

"What?"

"That soon it's going to be 'no, Daddy,' and then it'll just get worse. He'll start saying things like 'guess what, Mom, I have a girlfriend,' 'I want to go to college on the east coast,' and even 'I'm getting married.' I'm not ready for him to say those things yet!"

Muffling his chuckles in her hair, Ryan composed himself before soothing his wife's worries. "Sure," he agreed with her, "someday he will probably say all those things, and we'll be there to support him, but think of all the great thing he'll say first. You're going to get to hear him call you Mommy soon. You'll get to see his bright and shining face early in the morning when we run into the bedroom together to surprise you, and he'll yell 'Happy Mother's Day, Mom' or 'Happy Birthday, Mommy.' He'll bring home his school papers and art work, excited to show you how well he did and to tell you all about them. And, most importantly, someday soon he'll know how to say 'I love you, Mommy.' Now, would you trade all those wonderful things to prevent him from growing up?"

In a shaky voice rough with unshed tears, she whispered, "no. That will be great, won't it?"

"It's going to be wonderful."

"I just….it's all happening so fast," she explained the reason behind her fears. "It feels like just yesterday I held him for the first time, but, in what feels like just a blink of an eye, here we are, and he's crawling, standing up on his own, and talking already. Our baby's a year old, and it just feels as if his childhood is slipping by way too quickly."

"They always do, honey," Ryan said softly. "All parents feel that way."

"I know," she lamented, "but most parents get the chance to do this more than once, and, in all likelihood, we won't."

"You don't know that for sure," he interjected. Marissa could hear the traces of hope in his voice.

"What are you saying," she asked, turning around in his arms to face him. Sitting close together, she decided to rest her forehead against his as they talked.

"I'm saying that miracles happen," Ryan answered, "and we of all people know this already. First we got the miracle of our little girl. We were never supposed to be able to have children of our own, but we proved the doctors wrong; she proved them wrong. And then, when we lost her and our hope of ever being parents, August was brought to us by the most unlikely person, and we got our second miracle." Taking a deep breath, he continued, looking deeply into her wide, encouraging, sapphire orbs of blue. "I guess I just….I don't want us to stop wanting another miracle. Yes, it was hard to lose our daughter, but that was not our fault. Sometimes bad things happen even when people don't deserve them, but you're still young enough to have another baby, and, maybe if we get another starry night, we'll be able to make that same wish again and have another child of our own, a little brother or sister for August."

"So we try again," Marissa agreed with him, a wide, glowing smile lighting up her gorgeous face. "We throw away the condoms and the birth control and let nature take its course. If we get pregnant, we'll know that we got our third miracle, and, if not, we'll just be happy with what we have, with our precious little girl we never got to raise and our brilliant baby boy."

"He is brilliant, isn't he," Ryan teased her, skimming his lips across her jaw. "After all, he did say Daddy first."

"You're never going to let that go, are you," she complained, pouting her lip out in a tempting manner. "You're never going to let me forget that our son said 'Dada' before Mommy?"

"Nope." With that, Ryan lifted her up with one swift motion into his arms and stepped out of the Jacuzzi, leaving the bathwater just as it had been as he carried his squealing, giggling wife into their bedroom, dumping her precariously unto the bed. "The way I see it," he spoke while lowering his body down on top of her own, "there's no time like the present to start working on that third miracle."

She went to respond, but his eager, seductive lips quickly swallowed any words she was planning to say, and it would be much later that night before he ever relinquished them. A year after losing their daughter, they had their hope back, hope for their son, hope for themselves, and hope for their future. They would never forget the little girl they had lost, but she was always in their heart, comforting them, and, as they liked to think, watching out for her family. They would be alright, the three of them, Ryan, Marissa, and August Atwood, as long as they were together, and, if they were lucky enough to add another member to their family, they would be thankful forever. And it could happen, too, because, as they knew without the shadow of a doubt, miracles can and do happen…especially when you least expect them.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Just to forewarn some of you, there is only one chapter left of this fic. Enjoy!_

_Charlynn_

Chapter Eleven

Though time had passed to change both her physical appearance and that of her family, it had done little to alter Marissa Atwood's work routine. While her son had been at home with her, she would make her job fun for him, too, dancing with him to the music she had to sample in order to decide whether it was worth signing or not or playing games to keep him entertained. However, his toddler years passed by quickly, too quickly for both Ryan and Marissa's taste, and, before they knew it, their son was in school, and she had the long, uneventful, lonely days to herself again.

At first, she merely worked more, but it wasn't enough to keep her satisfied. Slowly, she started to incorporate new aspects into her daily routine. Instead of employing a maid, she took over the household chores, vacuuming and dusting, washing dishes and making beds, cleaning the windows and washing the laundry. When that still wasn't enough, she convinced Ryan to attend cooking classes with her, so she could learn how to make their dinner instead of always ordering it in or making something from a box. Initially, he had protested, but, by the end of the three month course, it was something they enjoyed so much, she was able to talk him into taking other classes with her…even succeeding in making him learn how to dance.

So, while August was at school everyday and Ryan at work, an executive after being with the company for twenty-two years, she not only performed the duties for her own job, but she took care of her house and her family as well. Her mother told her she was wasting her time and turning back the feminist clock, but Marissa insisted that since no one was forcing her to perform the household chores, she was doing no such thing. Summer said she was insane, that, instead of wearing old jeans, t-shirts, and flip-flops everyday, she should put on her best designer clothes and take up leisurely activities such as lunching at the country club, golfing with her friends, or even shopping. However, Marissa didn't enjoy wearing formal clothes any longer, she hated golf, and shopping, unless it was for her son, bored her. Even Kirsten objected slightly to her newfound talents, saying she was running herself ragged for no reason, but, what no one understood was that she took pride in performing the tasks she had been told all her life she wasn't expected to do.

Seeing wrinkled fingers when she finally finished washing the dinner dishes each morning made her giggle, staining the fine lines of her knees by kneeling in the dirt to plant her own flowers gave her a sense of rustic satisfaction …even if she made Ryan check the flower gardens weekly for snakes, and getting flour in her hair when she baked cookies for her son's holiday parties at school sent a warm, pleasant surge of accomplishment through her still nimble and fit body. She found washing, drying, and folding laundry to be relaxing, dusting, instead of becoming a chore, became a sensual dance she practiced for later viewing hours when she put on a sultry, slow CD to accompany the task, and making Ryan scrub their shower once a week…naked…while she sat on the floor and watched with a cup of coffee she brewed herself in her hand was something she looked forward to every Friday morning.

Yes, her life was simple, uncomplicated, even boring at times, but she lived for the effortless way happiness came into her existence. After eighteen years of drama, both the good and bad, in Newport, the everyday pleasures of life in San Diego made all her struggles and hardships worth it. Together, the three of them were happy, and it didn't matter if anyone else understood the reason why or not.

It had been more than nine years since August was miraculously dropped into their lives, and, though they had never gotten their third miracle, Ryan and Marissa were content. Their son had a joy for life neither of them had ever experienced in their childhoods. He could find beauty and fun in any situation, and, because of his optimistic attitude, he brought light into their lives. Always an over-achiever, he was already an honor roll student, delighting his parents with his zeal for learning and his ambition to know everything. He loved science and figuring out how everything around him could happen. With his father's strength and her enthusiasm, he was adept at sports and enjoyed spending time in the backyard with Ryan as the two messed around on Sunday afternoons either tossing around a football or practicing his golf game, something that horrified his father and amused her to no end. He had even managed to pick up on her love for music, perhaps because he had spent so much time with her while she was working when he was a child. Sure, he had his quirks and moments of questionable behavior, for example he was quick to snap back sarcastically when annoyed or pushed beyond his temper's limit, a trait his parents believed he learned from his Grandmother Julie, but Ryan and Marissa wouldn't change a single thing about their blonde haired, blue eyed nine year old son.

Just like every other afternoon, she was spending the day in the house, working on her paperwork in between her cleaning, and trying to battle the heavy, oppressive chill in the late January air. While another demo CD droned on in the background, one that was frankly getting on Marissa's nerves and one she would not be recommending for her company to sign, she was running the vacuum, preferring its rumbling and occasional churning when it swept up a rather large piece of debris over the supposed art drifting through the surround system in the entire house. She was just about to leave the family room to take the vacuum to the foyer to clean up the long flight of stairs, but something made her turn around one last time to glance at her phone, just happening to, in that moment, realize that it was ringing by its glowing face cover. Switching off the sweeper, she dashed into the room, picking up the cell just as the last strains of "When I Get Older," by the Beatles – a sarcastic, ring tone choice by her son to remind her that her birthday was coming up soon and she was going to turn 45 – began to fade. Flipping it open, she hadn't even taken the time to read the caller ID to ensure that she answered it before it went to voicemail.

"This is Marissa Atwood" she announced breathlessly. "Sorry it took me so long, but I was running the vacuum and couldn't hear the phone."

"Mrs. Atwood, this is the nurse at your son's school."

"Okay." Her tone was distracted, nervous, on edge. "Did something happen to August? Did he get hurt at recess; is he sick? What's wrong?"

"Ma'am, I need you to remain calm. Are you sitting down?"

"No, I'm not sitting down," Marissa yelled, already moving towards the front door where her car keys were waiting for her. "How can you ask me that right now? Just tell me what's happened to my son!"

"I really think you need to calm…."

"Do not tell me to calm down! This is my baby we're talking about, my only child, and, if something is wrong, I need to know what it is, and I need to know right now."

Taking a deep breath, the nurse started to explain. "We're not sure what's wrong. One minute he was fine, and the next thing I know I'm getting a hysterical call from the teacher on lunch duty this afternoon saying that August had passed out and wasn't breathing. We brought him back to my office, called 911, and we're waiting for the EMT to get here as we speak. It could be something simple, but, no matter what, if you could get down here…."

"I'm on my way," Marissa interrupted the heath professional for the second time. Saying nothing else, she slammed the door to their house shut, not bothering to turn off the CD that was still playing, to put a coat on her barely clothed body, or to lock the front door, and hung up on the woman she had only just been talking to. Immediately she dialed a number she knew well, a number she had known for the past twenty-two years. Although she prided herself upon being a strong, independent woman, this was one situation where she needed her husband at her side; she needed Ryan.

She was just backing out of the driveway when his secretary picked up the phone. It was exactly on the third ring just as it always was. "Nancy, I need to talk to Ryan right now."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Atwood, but he's in a important meeting at the moment."

"You don't understand," Marissa practically screamed the words. "It's August. Something is wrong with him; something is wrong with our son. He passed out and stopped breathing, and they don't know what's wrong. I need you to get Ryan. I…we….August needs him right now."

"Alright, listen to me, Marissa," suddenly the older woman's voice was firm and confident, and, in that moment, she took the weight of the situation upon her own very capable shoulders and took charge. "I need you to remain calm. Can you do that for August?"

In a strangled voice, the younger woman replied, "yes."

"Okay, that's good, honey, that's good. I'm going to send someone into the meeting right now to get Ryan. I'll have him meet you wherever you're going. Are you driving to the school or to the hospital?"

"The school."

"He'll meet you at the school then. However, for now," she continued in her calm, steady, soothing voice, "I want you to stay on the line with me. I want you to listen to my voice, to keep breathing, and to watch what you're doing very carefully, okay? We don't need you getting into a car accident on your way to see August. When he wakes up, he's going to want to see his Mom sitting beside him, and I'm going to get you there in one piece as long as you listen to me. Can you do that, Marissa?"

"Uh huh."

"That's great, honey, excellent." Taking a deep breath, Nancy continued talking to her boss's wife, offering him a sympathetic smile as he rushed past her desk on his way to the elevators despite never seeing her in the first place. "Do you remember the first time you brought little August here to see me? I do. I'll never forget that day. You had him dressed in a little pair of blue jeans and a simple t-shirt and a unbuttoned over shirt just like Ryan when's he outside of the office and dressed casually. You took him into Ryan's office to wait for him to return from an errand on another floor, and, while you were waiting, you figured out that August needed his diaper changed. Not knowing what to expect, you simply laid him down on top of Ryan's desk, crisp, finished blue prints and all, and, by the time you were done, those blueprints were not as crisp, not as clean, and definitely not as industrial smelling as they were before." She chuckled before continuing. "I'll never forget the look on your husband's face when he saw your apologetic smile and the gurgling little boy bouncing happily in your arms. That picture I snapped of the three of you that day still sits on my desk as we speak. You should bring that son of yours in here more," she suggested, smiling at the thought. "I miss seeing him and the three of you together."

"That's what we'll do then."

"What's that, honey," Nancy asked her, surprised that Marissa had said something.

"When everything is back to normal, when we find out that everything is alright with our little boy, our first stop is going to be to see you, to bring August with us into the office. Maybe we could even start coming in for lunch again once a week, just the four of us, you, me, Ryan, and August."

"I think that's a wonderful idea," the older woman agreed with her, sighing in relief that she had managed to calm her boss's wife down. "Do you remember the year you couldn't find a babysitter and brought him to the Christmas party with you?"

For several more minutes, the conversation continued, Nancy bringing up fond memories she shared with the Atwoods in an attempt to take the younger woman's mind off the possibly tragic situation facing her son while Marissa continued to drive, until she arrived at the school, parking her car in a rather precarious position right in front of the main entrance of the school. After mumbling a quick thank you and a promise to let her know what was going on, Marissa flipped her phone shut and ran as fast as she could into the school, not caring about her dilapidated appearance, the cold that was quickly numbing her vulnerable, exposed arms and toes, or the fact that she had left her car running for anyone to steal. Nothing else in the world mattered to her except her family, and, in that moment, it was threatened, leaving her with a sense of dread and fear she hadn't experienced in over nine years.

-+-

Ryan Atwood had always been a steady driver ever since his initial brush with the law, careful to follow the speed limit, use his turn signals, and obey all traffic regulations, but, as he rushed from his downtown office building to the private elementary school in the San Diego suburbs that his son attended, he knew he was damn lucky he didn't injure someone else or himself as he threw caution to the wind and drove like a man possessed to get to his family. His son was hurt or sick and needed him, his wife was worried and panicking, wanting him to be with her, and, if he were honest with himself, he needed to be with her just as much as she, undoubtedly, needed him. They had already lost one child, seen her taken away from them before they even had a chance to hold her and tell her how much they loved her, and he didn't know if they could survive the loss of a second child.

When he pulled into the school's parking lot, he noticed Marissa's haphazardly parked vehicle immediately, leaving his running in a similar precarious position. Nothing mattered except getting to his family. Somewhere along the lines, he had shed his tie and jacket, popping open the first several buttons of his pressed and starched white oxford shirt. Driving in his work clothes, he had felt caged, trapped, as if he couldn't breathe, and, unconsciously, his body had worked to free him of the restraints, tossing the clothing aside and not caring where they landed. With wide, long lunges of his powerful legs, Ryan covered the distance from the parking lot to the school entrance in mere seconds, swinging the doors open so roughly those watching feared the might be pulled from their hinges, but, as soon as he stepped into the chaos of the school's lobby, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Just in front of him he saw a smiling, laughing August being embraced by Marissa who was practically smoothing him with her incessant hugs and kisses. He could hear the unshed tears of relief and fear in his wife's voice as she repeatedly told their son how much she loved him, only stopping when the medical personnel insisted it was time to transport him to the hospital. She was to follow them outside, and, once they were in the ambulance, she could ride with them to the hospital or wait for her husband to arrive. Just as he would do in her position, Marissa insisted that she remain with their son, saying that she would be just a minute while she called her husband to let him know August was alright and they were on the way to the hospital to run tests. He knew he should speak up, call out to her and let her know that he was there, that she didn't have to call him, but, as he stood there rooted in place, his own eyes quickly filling with tears of happiness and peace at seeing the only two things in his life that mattered to him safe and sound, all he could do was say a silent words of thanks that his family was going to be alright and watch his wife as she turned around, caught his eye, and immediately started to move towards him.

But that's where his perfect world fell apart. Before he knew what was happening, Marissa was collapsing abruptly to the floor, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, as his body leapt into action in an attempt to catch her. Just as she was about to hit the hard marble of the lobby, his arms encircled her slim waist and he fell with her, cradling her delicate body in his protective embrace and taking the brunt of the fall for the both of them. However, he didn't feel the sharp stab of pain that coursed through his ankle and up his right leg as he twisted his foot in a way it wasn't supposed to move, nor did he hear the screams and cries for help that the school staff voiced to the paramedics. The only things he was aware of was the fact that he had saved Marissa from getting hurt, that his son's eyes were suddenly clouded with fear, and that he was now battling alone to make sure both his wife and his son were safe.

Gently, he stood up with Marissa in his arms, holding her firmly against his chest as he quickly made his way outside with the EMT staff. He knew his ankle was sore, that walking on it was just going to exacerbate his injury, but he was running on adrenaline and nothing was going to prevent him from taking care of his family…not even his own weaknesses and injuries. If it was the last thing he did, he would protect both Marissa and August until the very last breath in his body expired. Luckily, for all three of them, the present situation would not require such an ultimate sacrifice. They were all going to be fine, just how fine though Ryan, Marissa, and August had no idea. They were all in for a surprise.

-+-

"Mr. Atwood," the doctor said softly as he let himself into Marissa's hospital room. She was still asleep, resting peacefully, despite having several tests performed on her body, and he was sitting beside her bed, holding her hand and running his free fingers through her long, golden blonde tresses as he whispered reassuring promises into the crook of regal neck. He had called Nancy and had asked her to come in and sit with a scared August while they ran blood work on him to determine why he had lost consciousness. She had been happy to help, bringing along with her a change of clothes for each of them in case they had to stay over night, and was currently in August's room listening to his endless chatter, medical hypotheses, and the occasional knock-knock joke. Every half an hour, she would bring a report to him about his son and then would carry back an update on Marissa to the little boy. Turning around in his chair, Ryan remained silent, but his eager, worry filled eyes told the doctor that he was ready to hear the news.

"Your wife is fine. In fact, she's in exceptional health."

Not satisfied with his response, Ryan pressed. "Then what happened back there at the school? Why did she pass out?"

"She just needs to take it easy, give her body the proper amount of rest that it needs. Women her in condition," the doctor explained, "especially when they're of Mrs. Atwood's age, have to take care of themselves, and, if that means they're not as active as they were before, then that's just a sacrifice they have to make."

"I don't understand what you're talking about," Ryan stated exasperatedly. "What condition does my wife have? We were not aware that she was suffering from anything."

"Suffering is a strange form of expression to describe being pregnant," the doctor laughed.

"Excuse me?"

"I said your wife is expecting, Mr. Atwood." Realizing that Ryan was shocked by the news, he chuckled good naturedly and moved further into the room, taking a seat beside him. "You didn't realize she was pregnant then?"

"No," the younger man's eyes widened in shock. "We had no idea. When….how….I don't understand."

"I think we're both a little too old to explain the how," the doctor quipped unaware of their medical history, "but I can tell you the when. It appears as if the baby was conceived towards the end of November, putting your wife's due date at August 28th."

"This is impossible," Ryan laughed gleefully, his words and tone betraying the fact that the joyful news was starting to sink in. "I mean, after all this time, we just assumed this would never happen again. It wasn't even supposed to happen once, but twice, it's….it's amazing."

"Life always is," the older gentleman agreed with him reverently.

"But, there've been no signs. She's not showing yet."

"Many women don't show this early in their pregnancies," the doctor explained, finding the man's disbelief and awe to be entertaining and refreshing. So many people took such things for granted, but it was obvious that this couple did not belong in that category. "Don't worry, she'll start showing soon."

"She hasn't been sick, there have been no weird cravings, her back and feet haven't been bothering her, there've been no mood swings."

Snickering, the health professional teased him, "then you should consider yourself lucky. Mr. Atwood, every pregnancy is different. The various symptoms your wife displayed the first time she was pregnant might be replaced with new ones this time, especially since more than nine years have passed since she had her last child."

"Did Marissa passing out hurt the baby," Ryan asked hesitantly as if he was afraid to know the answer. "After what happened last time…."

"As far as we can tell," the doctor interrupted him, "your child is perfectly healthy. Now, I would recommend that you make an appointment with your wife's OB-GYN as soon as possible to get her started on prenatal vitamins and to have a sonogram just to make sure everything is how it should be, but our initial test results show that her pregnancy is right on track. However," he dropped his voice, drawing the younger man's eyes to his own, "I have a feeling something else is going on. Is there something I should know about, some medical history that could prove relevant to your wife's case?"

"The first time Marissa was pregnant," Ryan revealed slowly, letting his eyes travel from the doctor's to his sleeping wife, "we lost our daughter. She was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck."

"I don't understand," the health professional confessed. "According to your wife's medical history, she's only been pregnant once before, and, with your son…."

"We've raised our son since he was a few days old. His birth parents abandoned him, wanted nothing to do with him. In every sense of the word, he is our son….except for biologically. We were never supposed to be able to have children in the first place, and then, after we received this miracle, we lost it; we lost her, and now you're telling m that Marissa is pregnant for the second time, and I can't help but think that it could happen again, that we could go through all the preparation it takes to have a baby, the months of waiting and anticipating the moment when your child will be placed in your arms, only to be handed a stillborn baby again. Doctor, I don't think Marissa or I could get through that a second time."

"There are no guarantees in life, Ryan," the older man finally responded after a moment's thought. "There is always a risk in everything we do. A person can die unexpectedly sitting in a bomb shelter; it's possible, not probable, but still possible, just as it's possible something could go wrong with your wife's pregnancy, possible but not probable. You can't live your life constantly anticipating the 'what ifs.' If you do that, you'll never truly live. So, as a doctor, can I promise you that in seven months time your wife will give birth to a healthy child and they will both survive? No, I can't, but what I can promise you is that, in all likelihood, seven months from now you'll be, once again, changing dirty diapers, waking up in the middle of the night to feed a newborn, and eagerly counting down the days until you and your wife can have sex again. This is something to be happy about, Ryan, this pregnancy; this is something to celebrate. You and your wife are about to be parents again, and your son is about to become a big brother." Standing up, he moved towards the door, stopping just once to say one final thing. "Life doesn't get much sweeter than that. Congratulations, Mr. Atwood." With a simple nod of his head, he left.

It was well over an hour later when Marissa started to stir. Ryan merely watched her, an amused, content smile lighting up his exuberant face. It was late and the day had been hectic, but he was wide awake and unsure if he would be able to fall asleep for some time. Sleeping at that point, closing his eyes and missing even one second of the seven months ahead of them, seemed like such a waste of time.

Marissa's hands were the first to awaken. While her eyes remained closed, her long, nimble fingers felt his hands grasping hers, and they slowly tightened their grip around his touch. Next, her head started burrowing deeper into her pillow as if she was fighting consciousness, and then her nose started twitching. She always reminded him of an adorable bunny when she did that, and the thought of her resemblance to the furry animal made him smirk in amusement while he waited for the rest of her body to awaken before his loving eyes. Finally, her lids started to flutter, but he couldn't wait patiently any longer.

"Open your eyes, baby," he coaxed her, his voice warm and gentle. "I have some good news."

"August," she asked. Her tone was thick, raspy as if she was in desperate need of a drink.

Before he responded, Ryan stood up and moved towards the customary pitcher of water waiting in the hospital room and poured her a glass. Handing it her, he finally answered, "August is fine. They're running tests as we speak. They think he might have had an allergic reaction to something, closing off his airways and preventing him from being able to breathe. The sooner we find out what it was, the sooner we'll know what he has to avoid in the future so this doesn't happen again."

"I need to go see him," she insisted, attempting to stand up, but he was there to stop her, carefully easing her back into bed and making her lay still.

"You are going nowhere. You've been pushing yourself enough as it is. From this point on, it's going to be maids, gardeners, and takeout for you. August is fine. Nancy is sitting with him and keeping him entertained by letting him talk as much as he wants." Despite the situation, Marissa found herself laughing softly at her husband's comments. "I'm more concerned about you at the moment."

"Me? Why are you worried about me? I'm fine."

"You're not fine," he insisted. "You passed out, the doctor said that you've been stretching yourself too thin lately, and that, at your age, we're going to have to be careful."

"I get it," she threw up her arms in impatience. "I'm getting older. You and August have been making that perfectly clear while you taunt me about turning 45, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop my normal, everyday activities."

"That's exactly what you're going to do," Ryan contradicted her statement. "A woman in your condition cannot be pushing herself. If I have to tie you to our bed to make you relax and take it easy, that's exactly what I'm going to do!"

"Getting older is not a condition," Marissa exploded, glaring at her husband, "and if either of us is going to have to slow down, it's going to be you. I see how stiff you are when you wake up in the morning, how it takes you longer to stand up when August tackles you when the two of you play football in the backyard, how your hands becomes sore when you're working on your computer. I might be a few months older than you are, but you're so not aging gracefully."

"I'm not the one who's responsible for a little, precious life."

"What the hell do you mean you're not responsible for August," she yelled at him.

"I'm not talking about August."

His words still left her confused, but the intense almost profound expression in his cobalt eyes left her with hope. She hadn't seen that gleam in her husband's gaze in years….not since that fateful Valentines Day weekend when she had told him she was pregnant.

"What are you saying, Ryan?"

"I'm saying we finally got our third miracle. I'm saying that August is going to be a big brother. I'm saying that we're going to be parents again. I'm saying, you're pregnant, Marissa. I'm saying that we're going to have a baby."


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Yes, this is the final chapter of this storyline. :( A word of warning for everyone and a challenge: the name of their child is rather...unusual. You do not pronounce it the way it looks, but I'm not telling you the correct pronunciation until after everyone comments. This is the challenge: if you can come up with where/who/what the name comes from, you get to help me choose which story will be started next. Don't worry, for everyone who doesn't realize the inspiration of the name, I will reveal it. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the conclusion. Thanks for reading!_

Charlynn

Chapter Twelve

Ryan Atwood was exhausted, but, if he was exhausted, where did that leave his wife, he reasoned with himself. She wasn't just tired or fatigued, worn out didn't even begin to describe her level of weariness. Instead she was drained, physically, emotionally, and mentally, drowsy, and sore; her whole body was aching, and even thinking about his own need for rest made him feel like a terrible husband and father, an unsympathetic hypocrite. So, scrubbing a rough hand over his haggard face, he glanced down at his watch and sighed when he noticed it was only 5:25.

Because the heavy blinds were drawn, it had been nearly impossible for him to discern the time of day, so he had relied heavily upon his watch to tell them how long they had been at the hospital. Actually, heavily didn't even scratch the surface of how dependent he had become on his watch that afternoon, - he'd probably already looked at it at least a hundred times - and, with the way Marissa's labor was progressing, he had a good feeling there would be even more bonding time for him and his timepiece.

"So, I was thinking," his wife spoke up after her contraction passed, effectively silencing his rather strange inner monologue, "instead of me going to Austin next year on my own, why don't we make it a family trip. You can take a few days' vacation time, we can get August out of school on educational travel, and, since the baby will only be seven months old, I doubt it'll have any pressing social plans. What do you think?"

"I think….I think we need more ice," Ryan eventually said after stumbling over his words. Standing up, he brushed a quick kiss across her sweaty brow, but, before he could escape from the oppressive confines of the hospital room, her emotional voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"You don't like the idea?"

"No, I think it's a great idea," he assured her, setting the ice bucket down to clasp the desperate hand she had offered him. "After all, we did say that we wanted August to be able to visit every state before he turned eighteen, and he's never been to Texas before." And that was the truth; he did want to take the kids and go with her to the annual South by Southwest Music Festival. "I'm just worried about August," he excused his behavior. "You know, he's been sitting in that waiting room all day with your Mom…." He thought she'd chastise him for picking on her Mom, but when she merely laughed softly at his little joke directed at Julie, he let out a breath of relief that she hadn't caught him in his little white lie of omission, kissed her once again, the second time on the lips, and picked up the ice bucket. "I'll be back before your next contraction," Ryan promised as he slipped out the door.

He was concerned about August and did want to check on him, but the truth was that he was worried about her. The night before had been nearly unbearably long. Her back had been so sore that she couldn't sleep, and he had stayed up with her, massaging the tender muscles and hoping his gentle ministrations would ease her discomfort enough so that she could go to sleep. At three in the morning, she had told him to go to sleep, that while he was at work the next day, she'd be able to hopefully catch up on her own rest, and she didn't want him to run his own body down taking care of her. Reluctantly, he had listened, but two hours later when he had rolled over to slip his arms around her very pregnant form, he had found her peacefully sitting up in bed and carefully drinking a cold glass of milk. If it hadn't been for the slight puckering of her brow, he wouldn't have known anything was wrong.

"_Your back still bothering you," he asked her, sleep lacing his voice. Sitting up in bed, he yawned, pushed the blankets away from his restless, hot body, and settled his eyes on his wife to watch her closely. In his opinion, she was acting strangely._

_Without any more explanation, Marissa announced, "Nope."_

"_And you're not tired? Don't you want to get some sleep before August gets up?"_

"_Can't sleep," she told him resolutely. _

_Oh yeah, something was definitely going on. "What's with the milk," he inquired, nodding towards the tall, foamy glass. "Just a craving?"_

"_Not exactly."_

_Was she ever going to give him a straight answer again? Sighing from annoyance, Ryan decided to play dirty. "You can either tell me what's going on, or I'm going to call your Mom and have her come down here to watch over you while I'm at work today. Your choice, but I should remind you that her new favorite hobby is hovering."_

"_Fine," she huffed, glaring at him. "I'm having Braxton-Hicks contractions. The milk should help to get rid of them."_

"_Marissa," he exclaimed, jumping out of bed and rushing towards their closet where he knew their prepared hospital bag lay waiting. "You're only two weeks away from your due date! Don't you think these could be real contractions and not a false alarm?"_

"_I'm not in labor." Her tone was determined, unyielding, stubborn, leaving no room for argument. "It's Friday the 13th, and I refuse to give birth today."_

_He couldn't help it, he knew it was the wrong thing to do at the worst time possible, but, in a fit of what he would later call temporary insanity, he laughed, he chuckled, he snickered, and he snorted all at his very pregnant, very angry wife's expense, doing nothing but heightening her annoyance to the point where she took her tall, foamy glass of milk and threw it as hard as she could at his head._

"_I'm going to go call your Mom."_

"_What," she cried out. "That's not fair! I told you what was wrong. Don't you dare go back on a deal with me, Ryan Atwood!"_

"_I'm not calling her to baby-sit you; I'm calling her so she can come with us to the hospital and wait with August. You know as well as I do that he'll never stay here. He'll want to be right there, close by, so that when his little sister or little brother arrives, he'll be able to meet her or him."_

"_He's going to be waiting a while, because this baby is staying in me for at least another," she glanced at her bedside table clock, "eighteen hours and fifty minutes."_

"_And, while I'm calling your Mom, I'm going to give Nancy a call and let her know I won't be coming into the office. She might want to come to the hospital, too, now that I think about it."_

"_I'm not a freak show that you can charge admission for; the whole damn town does not need to be there while I'm giving birth!"_

_Taunting her, he asked with a smirk on his face, "I thought you weren't giving birth today?" The only response he received as his very hormonal wife giving him the bird. "I'm also going to make some breakfast for August and myself, something quick, and then I'll get him up. Can you get dressed on your own, or are you contractions too advanced? Do you need me to help you?"_

"_I'll do it myself," she snapped, glaring at him, "but it doesn't matter. We can go to the hospital, you can call every Tom, Dick, and Harry you know, tell them that you're going to be a Daddy again today, but these legs," she pointed down at her own body, "they're remaining closed until tomorrow."_

"_I think it's about nine months too late for that," he teased on his way out the door. As soon as he closed it behind him, Ryan let out a shaky breath. Marissa was scared. He could tell that her apparent anger and reluctance to give birth stemmed from the nerves she was feeling as memories from the past haunted her, and, while he was tense and anxious as well, he, evidently, was going to deal with his own panic by joking around and teasing his wife. For a man who rarely showed his lighter, humorous side, he definitely picked odd times to tell jokes. However, as long as they made it through the day, as long as their baby, boy or girl, was healthy when born, he didn't care how they dealt with the pressures of the labor. After all, as Marissa had said, he was going to be a Daddy again, and nothing could ruin that feeling for him. Nothing._

Ten hours later though, Marissa's reluctance to discuss giving birth had progressed to absolute denial, and he was scared, scared for her, scared for himself, and, most of all, scared for their unborn baby. When their daughter had been born, her labor had progressed much more quickly than this child's, but the doctor had assured him that Marissa's body was moving along slow and steady, just as they wanted. There was a fetal heart monitor hooked up, so that the staff could watch the baby's heart rate through every step of the labor, and, so far, their son or daughter was handling the stress of being born perfectly. He had been assured that everything was moving along the way it should, but, until he saw a beautiful, healthy, alive baby placed in his wife's arms, nothing would stop his fears.

Five minutes later, after having given Julie and August an update and getting the promised ice, he pushed open the door to Marissa's hospital room to find her preparing for her next contraction. "I'm here, I'm here," he soothed, immediately placing the bucket of frozen water chips down on her bedside table and taking both of her hands in his. "That's it," he coached, "breath through it. You're doing great, baby." Knowing she liked him to talk to her while she was experiencing the labor pains, he continued. "I just saw your Mom and August, and they were getting ready to head down to the cafeteria, but I told them to go out for dinner at a restaurant, because it's going to be a while before the baby's born."

"How's August," she panted.

"He's fine," Ryan reassured. "He's anxious to meet his little brother or sister, but, other than that, just enjoying spending time with his Grandma."

The contraction had passed, and she was capable of carrying on a conversation. "What have they been up to this afternoon?"

"Apparently, our son is quite the little card shark. If his evening is as productive as his afternoon, we might be able to retire early or use his college fund to go on a second honeymoon. He's already managed to win $500 and the promise of a car of his choosing when he turns sixteen from your Mom. What I don't understand though is where the hell did he learn how to play poker?" He was expecting her to shrug her shoulders or say that she had no idea, so when Ryan saw the proud, smug grin on his wife's face, he knew she was guilty of something. "What did you do?"

"Well, I might have….taught him a thing or two about playing cards when he was younger," she confessed.

"Marissa!"

"What?! You know, sure, we live in Southern California, and the weather is generally perfect 350 days out of the year, but you have to have something to do on those rare days when you can't go outside to play. So, when it would rain and you would be at work, I would teach August how to play poker. We'd bet with cookies, and, evidently, he remembers a thing or two from our little poker tournaments."

"You're telling your Mom about this," he ordered her. "She's already going off on me for teaching our son how to count cards. I think I even heard her mutter 'that boy' under her breath, and you know she hasn't called me that in years."

"I'll make you a deal," she offered him cheekily. "If you let them come in here to play cards with me when they get back from dinner, then I'll confess all to my Mom."

"Marissa, you're in labor; you could give birth at any time," Ryan pointed out. "There's no way I'm letting you excite yourself by gambling in between contractions."

"I'm not giving birth today," her tone was cold again, cold and unwavering, "so you can just forget that thought, Atwood! I've seen you looking at your watch all afternoon, and, if you think it's been a long day so far, tonight's going to be even longer."

"Fine," he conceded. "What if I play cards with you?"

"Where's the fun in winning my own money?"

"We could bet with something other than money," he suggested, "like diaper duty for a month."

Clapping her hands together, she exclaimed, "this has possibilities," but, before he could even deal the first round, another contraction was upon her. Just like before, Ryan held her hands through the pain, wiping her sweat dampened, frizzy hair off her moist forehead and talking to her while the contraction passed. It was easily the longest lasting, most excruciating one she had suffered through so far, and, when it was over, tears were lining her exquisite blue eyes, her voice was quivering, and poker was the furthest thing from her mind. "I'm scared Ryan," she finally admitted, lacing her right hand through the hair at the nape of his neck and drawing him towards her, eventually resting her face against his. "I'm so scared something will go wrong again." Her eyes closed in a futile effort to keep the crystal, saline droplets from falling as her nose intimately caressed his.

"I'm scared, too, baby."

Finally, she was opening up to him, her walls were breaking down, and, in that moment, he knew they would be alright…all four of them.

-+-

"Hey Buddy," an exuberant Ryan roused his son from sleep. Despite the dark, tired circles rimming his cobalt eyes, he had never felt more alive. "I know it's late, but, if you want to meet your baby sister, you can."

"She had a little girl," Julie asked, smiling up at her son-in-law. She had been dozing off and on throughout the evening, but, with the news of her daughter becoming a mother for what she thought was the second time, she was wide awake. Even the losses she had suffered at the hands of her very intelligent, rather cheeky grandson mattered little to her in that moment. "How are they? What's my granddaughter's name? When can I see them?"

"Marissa actually wanted to see August first, but she wanted me to tell you that she expects you in that hospital room as soon as he's tucked in for the night." Ryan couldn't hold back a chuckle as his mother-in-law pouted slightly at the knowledge she'd have to wait her turn. If he could say one thing about Julie Cooper it was that she never changed, and, after knowing her for almost thirty years, he found the thought comforting. "I do have a favor to ask of you though," he continued, watching August out of the corner of his eye as his son stood up from the couch he had been sleeping on and slipped his small feet back into his flip-flops. "Would you be able to call everyone for us? I know it's late, after midnight, but, after last time…"

"You mean when you waited several days to tell us that Marissa had given birth!"

"Yeah, then," he conceded. Apparently, Julie Cooper still didn't forget or forgive anything either. "We, Marissa and I, thought it would be better this time if everyone knew right away."

"And when they ask for more information, what am I supposed to tell them," she pressed. "It's not as if you've told me anything yet."

"She was born at exactly 12:01, August 14th. Laughing softly, he added, "Marissa was just able to avoid an unlucky birthday for our daughter."

"I don't care about that," Julie complained. "What's her name?!"

"She weighs six pounds, six ounces, is nineteen inches long, has her Mother's eyes, and, terrifyingly, your red hair."

Tapping her foot impatiently, the older woman exploded, "her name, Ryan, tell me her damn name!"

"We actually haven't officially given her a name yet." Smiling at his son, he wrapped a loving arm around the little boy's shoulders, pulling him into his side, before continuing. "We thought we'd let August here help us out."

"Are you serious, Dad?"

"Of course I am. You're going to have to live with the name your little sister has, too, but don't look at me." Glancing up at his mother-in-law, he continued. "This was all your Mom's idea."

As the two Atwood boys walked out of the waiting room together, Ryan could hear Julie complaining behind him, muttering curses under her breath and objecting the fact that her nine year old grandson got to help choose the baby's name when she, her grandmother, had absolutely no say.

"Hey Dad," August spoke up as they neared Marissa's hospital room, "would it be okay if I used some of the money I won from Grandma Julie to buy the baby a present?"

"About those poker winnings," Ryan sighed, stopping their movements and turning to face his little boy, "you're going to have to give your Grandma her money back."

"But Dad!"

"I know you won it, fair and square, but it's only the right thing to do. What you did to Julie is something called hustling, because you took advantage of the fact that she would be unaware of how good of a card player you are."

"No I didn't," the nine year old argued. "Grandma was bored and asked me if I wanted to play cards with her. I said sure, told her that I was really good at poker, and she laughed at me. It was her idea to bet, because she said there was no way a kid as young as I was could beat her at such an old game."

"Well, in that case, we're still giving her back her money, but," Ryan interjected when August went to protest again, "we're definitely holding her to the fact that she owes you the car of your choice when you turn sixteen. Deal?"

"Deal," the little boy beamed up at his Father, giving him a high-five in the process.

"Now, when we go inside the room to see your Mom and your little baby sister, try to keep your voice down in case your Mom managed to get her to stop crying. When I left, she was wailing at the top of her lungs; my guess is that she's trying to pay your Mom back for all that awful music she made her listen to for the past nine months."

They were both snickering softly when he pushed the door open only to be confronted with his smiling wife as she looked down upon their peacefully eating daughter. Unlike with August, they had decided to bottle feed with their second foray into parenthood, mainly so that he and their son could play a larger part in helping out with the feedings.

"I guess all it took was for me to go and get you, Buddy, for her to settle down."

"Hey, Mommy," August greeted Marissa, moving towards her bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm sore and tired," she admitted, laughing softly, "but I'm really, really happy, even more so now that you and your Dad are here. Did we wake you up?"

"Yeah, but it's okay. I wanted to meet my little sister."

"And she wanted to meet you, too," the radiant mother reassured him. "Well, what are you waiting for, get up here," she demanded, patting the empty part of the hospital bed where her son could sit. "You need to get a good look at her so that you can help pick out a name." With a look upon her face that could only be described as pure contentment, Ryan watched his wife as she spoke with their son, making his way to her far side and pulling up the lone chair in the room to sit beside her. "What do you think?"

"Well, she….um….she looks nothing like me," the little boy realized, furrowing his brows. "And she really does have red hair."

"She looks like me, just like you look almost exactly like your Daddy," Marissa responded. "You know, my hair was slightly red when I was born, but it faded when I got older."

"Do you think her hair will change, too?"

"It's hard to tell. It might, but, yet again, as scary as the idea is, she might end up looking like your Grandma Julie."

"Hey, I said something similar," Ryan joked, making his wife laugh.

Confused, August looked up at his Mom. "Why would that be scary? I think Grandma Julie is pretty."

"She is pretty, baby, and I know she'd love it if you told her that, but…well, do you know how Grandma Julie really likes herself?" Her son nodded his head to show he understood. "Well, if your little sister ends up looking like your Grandma, it'll just make her like herself even more."

"Plus, it'll be a bad sign for your little sister," Ryan added. "If she looks like your Grandma, she just might start acting like her, too." His wife's glare did nothing to deter him. "Don't look at me like that, Marissa! August is old enough that he is aware of the rather … unique relationship your Mother and I have. She tells me I'm not good enough for you; I tell her that she's vain. She calls me a juvenile delinquent; I call her a plastic ambulance chaser. The point is we're both capable of admitting our flaws, and I think there are some of her own personality traits that your Mother would not want her grandchildren to inherit, so it's okay for me to say things like this. Despite our past, we've made peace. I might not agree with everything she does and vice versa, but I can admit that she loves you, wants what's best for you, and that she's a good grandma, just as I think she'd finally admit that she knows that I love you, that I want the best for you, and that I'm a good dad. However, that still does not mean I want my little girl to be the next Julie Cooper."

"Name, Ryan," Marissa interrupted his rant, pretending to be angry but doing a poor job of it. "We brought August in here to meet his baby sister and to help us name her. I think we're getting a little off topic."

"Are you going to name her after a musician like you did me," the little boy reentered the conversation. "I think we should name her Ringo."

"Where do you get this fascination with the Beatles," his Mother asked him. "Granted, I have to admit that they are an integral part of music history, but that's where they belong, August, in the past."

"No, Buddy," Ryan told him, "we're not naming her Ringo. Your Mom and I like the name Larkin, but we're not sure if we want it to be her first or her middle name."

"We're going to let you pick the second half of her name, but you have to pick from our options."

"Okay," their son agreed, "what are they?"

"There's Fiona, Hope, Catherine, Chan, and Rilo," Marissa told him, watching his face to observe his various reactions to the names.

"Catherine's too old," the little boy quickly stated, "and I don't like the name Fiona. It makes me think of fjords."

"Hey," Ryan exclaimed, "that's impressive. How do you know about fjords?"

"From IMF," August answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Mom makes me watch "One World" everyday after school so that I learn about the music scenes in different countries, and they talk about geography, culture, and history, too." His Dad merely rolled his eyes. "Hope's sounds like a hippy name," their son continued making his way through the options, "and, although Rilo is kind of like Ringo, I think I like Chan the best."

"So Chan is it," Marissa declared, kissing his cheek. "Should it be Larkin Chan Atwood or Chan Larkin Atwood?"

"Chan Larkin," August spoke up, grinning wickedly.

"Then that's what it'll be," Ryan announced. "But I have a question for you, Buddy. What made you choose Chan?"

Smiling smugly, the little boy explained, "well, because my middle name is so weird, I thought my sister should have a weird first name, and it doesn't get much weirder than Chan."

-+-

"Hey, baby girl," Marissa greeted her daughter as she knelt down in front of the little girl's gravestone, Ryan by her side. "Happy Birthday."

"A lot has changed since the last time we were here," he continued, letting his hand move across the engraved script adorning their oldest child's final resting place. "August is going to turn ten in a few days, and you have a new baby sister."

Laughing softly, a teary eyed Marissa confessed, "we stuck with using strange names again. One thing is for sure, no one else will ever have our children's names."

"We named your little sister Chan Larkin, Chan because of your Mom's love for music and Larkin just because we liked it."

"Your brother is so excited, because he thinks her name is stranger than his," Marissa expressed, wiping away several tears that escaped her loving, sapphire eyes. "Of course, your Grandpa Sandy and Uncle Seth had a few glib comments to make about it, while your Grandma Kirsten was very accepting."

"Grandma Julie on the other hand," Ryan laughed, earning a jab in his side from his wife, "she wasn't quite as accommodating. It turns out she had her heart, and, yes, baby girl she does have one," he paused to stifle another chuckle while Marissa glared at him, "set on her granddaughter being named after herself, especially when she found out that Chan has red hair."

"Your Aunt Summer was just upset, because she says we'll have a hard time finding monogrammed items for her, but she graciously offered to give us the name of her favorite engraver."

"Your cousins all think the name's pretty cool," Ryan added in, "especially little Stella, because she can actually say it. They were just here, too. All five of them flew out to meet Chan."

"Just as they would have flown out here ten years ago to meet you if….if things would have been different."

"We can't stay long, but we wanted to come see you today, to remember your birthday," Ryan's voice caught in his throat as he stifled an emotional sob, "and we brought you some presents, nothing big, just flowers and a picture of your family…the family we couldn't have had without you."

"You're our first miracle," Marissa continued for her husband, "and we will always cherish every moment we got to spend with you before you were taken away from us. So thank you, baby girl, thank you for your brother and your sister." Standing up, she took Ryan's hand in hers and squeezed it softly before kissing her fingers and letting them linger over the words on the tombstone. "We love you."

_Child of Ours _

Neko Alison Atwood

_Daughter, Sister, Guardian Angel _

A Gift from the Stars

Hand in hand they left the cemetery to go home to their family, to celebrate the life their daughter had given them, and to honor her memory by cherishing the two children her death had provided them with. In a perfect world, she would be there with them to ring in her birthday, but the world she had left behind ten years before wasn't perfect. It was, however, still pretty miraculous, and Ryan and Marissa Atwood intended to enjoy every moment they were lucky enough to be given. Together.


End file.
